


Kiss Me Under the Moonlight

by burrsir



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bad Puns, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kerberos Mission, M/M, Matt Holt is a Good Bro, Mildly Unhealthy Coping mechanisms, Outer Space, Post-Break Up, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Secretly Pining Shiro, Shatt Big Bang 2019, Temporarily Unrequited Love, and then very much requited love, as happy as a pre-kerberos fic can be that is, mild alcohol use, past/temporary Adam/Shiro, pining Matt holt, very brief non consensual kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 00:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burrsir/pseuds/burrsir
Summary: Matt Holt has been quietly in love with his best friend for as long as he can remember, and had to watch as he fell in love with someone else. He can deal with that. Shiro’s happiness is most important, after all.When they’re both selected for the Kerberos Mission, it’s a dream come true. Then Adam leaves Shiro, and it’s like that dream has fractured. Matt’s there for his friend – he always will be – but six months in space with broken hearts leads to a lot of spilling emotions.It’s there, in the void of the cosmos, that Matt discovers his feelings may not be as unrequited as he’d thought.





	Kiss Me Under the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> At long last, here it is! My entry for the Shatt Big Bang 2019!
> 
> This is the longest single fic I've written, and has been a huge undertaking, and I'm so happy to finally share it with you!
> 
> A note - while this fic is mostly canon compliant, a few minor details have been altered, namely the reason for Shiro and Adam's fight, in an attempt to paint the characters in a different and (I hope) better light than canon.
> 
> Links to fanart are in the end notes!

Matt Holt had always dreamed of the stars. The vast unknown, stretching endlessly into the beyond, called to him like nothing else. For as long as he could remember, he’d wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch it.

 

When he’s twelve years old, he meets Takashi Shirogane, a boy with a dream just like his own.

 

They’re stargazing one night, after having snuck out onto the roof of the Holts’ house. Takashi’s arms are stretched back behind his head, Matt’s hands are folded together over his stomach. They’re taking turns tracing constellations with their fingers, sharing the old myths and legends behind them. It goes quiet for a moment, and Matt turns to find a gentle smile sitting on Takashi’s lips.

 

“Have you ever heard of the _Calypso_?” Takashi asks. His gaze doesn’t wander from the skies.

 

“The space mission to Jupiter’s moons?” Matt asks. Takashi nods. “Yeah, my grandma actually helped work on it.”

 

Takashi bolts upright. He turns to face Matt, his eyes blown open wide. “What?! No way!”

 

“Yeah!” Matt chuckles. “She was one of the engineers who helped create the stabilization technology that kept them from being sucked in by Jupiter’s gravitational pull.”

 

“ _Whoa_ ,” Takashi says, a little breathless. “That’s so cool.” He lays back down, one hand on his forehead and threaded into his hair, the other resting on his stomach.

 

Matt hums. “What were you going to say about it, before?”

 

“Hmm?” Takashi glances at Matt. “Oh, well uh, I was just going to say that I thought the _Calypso_ mission was just like, amazing. We made it all the way out to Jupiter! And there’s still so much more to explore, just even in our solar system.” His eyes go soft, not really focusing on any one thing, but rather soaking in the vast expanse above them. “One day, I’m gonna go on a mission just like the _Calypso_ , and fly through space and visit all the planets.” His lips pull up at the corner, and something catches in Matt’s chest.

 

“That- that sounds really awesome,” he says.

 

“You think so?” Takashi says, his head tilting towards Matt. “You gotta promise to go with me then, ok? It’ll be so fun. He can hang out on Jupiter’s moons and find all the constellations out there.”

 

That something in Matt’s chest has grown into a full flame now, making his body feel warm and heart to race. Takashi’s eyes are wide, his smile open and sincere. Matt would swear on every sci-fi author he knew that he could see the constellations reflected in Takashi’s eyes.

 

His voice isn’t working quite right, but Matt manages a nod at Takashi’s question.

 

“No, no. You gotta _promise,_ Matt. Pinky swear, right now. We’ll go to space together, you and me.” Takashi holds his pinky finger out, eyebrows raised and expectant.

 

Matt luckily finds his voice then, and reaches out to loop his pinky finger with Takashi’s. “I promise,” he says, gaze locked tight with his friend’s, “we’ll go to space together one day.”

 

“All right!” Takashi says as they pull apart. “I’m gonna hold you to that, Holt.”

 

“Pfft,” Matt scoffs, feeling his heartbeat steady and his frazzled mind returning to normal, “like I’d ever break a promise to you, Takashi.”

 

Takashi laughs. “Well, I won’t break my promise either. That’s why we’re best friends.”

 

Matt giggles along with him. “Yeah,” his cheeks are burning, both from the stretch of his smile and something else he doesn’t want to think too hard about, “best friends.”

 

* * *

 

Matt Holt considers himself a man of science. When confronted with things he doesn’t understand, he follows a procedure and a method to _make_ himself understand. He studies, he experiments, and he categorizes things into boxes once he can understand them.

 

Here is a thing, here is the how and the why of the thing. Here’s the box where it belongs.

 

But, despite having known him for years, Matt has never quite been able to fit Takashi into any one box.

 

When people ask, Matt says he’s his best friend. It’s a true enough statement; Takashi is, without a doubt, his closest and oldest friend. Matt may not have a multitude of friends to choose from, but Takashi is certainly the best, regardless. When Takashi is the one asked, he also calls Matt his best friend. Still, there was something about that title that didn’t sit quite right with Matt. Something about it felt _lacking_ , like it was leaving out an essential detail, a specific trait, that would completely reclassify it into a whole new kingdom. It grates on Matt for the better part of six years, but he’s never able to pinpoint exactly what it is.

 

Then Adam West transfers to their school two weeks into their senior year, a new, unexpected variable that should’ve crashed Matt’s entire system, but instead caused it to finally produce a result.

 

Takashi takes a liking to Adam rather quickly. It’s not unusual; Takashi is bright and charismatic, with a bit of a heroic streak to him that compels him to play the knight-in-shining-armor to every anxious new student. Adam is witty, can keep up with both Takashi and Matt’s banter. His dreams of spaceflight mirror Takashi’s own.

 

And he’s cute. Very, _very_ cute. He’s tall, taller than Matt, with broad shoulders and dusty brown hair with just a hint of a wave. Sometimes, when his thoughts wandered, Matt could imagine him with a surfboard and a wetsuit gazing out over the California coastline. On top of that, he wore glasses. The dark frames only brought out his deep brown eyes, and that should’ve been when Matt realized how bad Takashi would have it. He’d always had a thing for glasses.

 

Matt likes Adam. He does. He’s not the kind of person to get territorial over his friends. It’s just that Takashi is his oldest friend, the person he’s closest with, someone who he knows will be in his life forever. And Adam’s great. He has no problem with Adam spending time with them, or even when he spots Adam and Takashi walking together down the halls, their heads bent together, Takashi laughing at something Adam had said. Takashi has laughed at plenty of jokes their other friends have told.

 

Matt doesn’t have a problem with Adam.

 

What he does have a problem with - and really, should he even call it that? He’s not entirely sure what the feeling even _is_ , let alone if he can label it a _problem_ \- is the way Takashi’s attention always seems to zero in on Adam, even when Matt is there. He still sits next to Matt at lunch, but it’s always across from Adam. He still listens when Matt talks, but Matt can’t help but feel like he’s more interested in what Adam says. It’s in the way he sits his chin in his hand, and his eyes seem to widen ever so slightly. And, even though it makes his gut twist in a way he doesn’t want to think too much about, it’s because Matt can’t help but notice the way Takashi’s cheeks dust with pink whenever Adam smiles. It doesn’t help when Adam does the same.

 

Realization comes to Matt late one Saturday evening. Takashi’s over at his house, like they spend most weekends. They’re sprawled across Matt’s bed, surrounded on all sides by movie posters, drawings from his sister, and photographs pinned to the walls. Matt is lying on his stomach and Takashi perpendicular on his back, his feet propped up on Matt’s back. His laptop is nestled at the corner of the mattress, _The Twilight Zone_ going on autoplay. Matt’s picking the last tidbits of popcorn from the bottom of their bowl when Takashi clears his throat.

 

“Uh, so,” he begins, “I’ve been thinking about something, and I wanted to run it by you, since you’re my best friend and all.” Out of the corner of his eye, Matt can see the way he tugs and scratches at the base of his undercut.

 

Matt raises an eyebrow, indicating for him to go on.

 

“Well, Homecoming is coming up and I know we usually go stag together, but I, um,” his cheeks and the bridge of his nose have blossomed a bright pink, “I was planning on asking Adam this time.”

 

Matt blinks. Then blinks again. He should probably say something before his silence gets too long...

 

“If that’s okay-” Takashi rushes to add.

 

Matt finally shakes himself mentally, and cuts Takshi off before he can backtrack. “No, what, yes! Of course it’s okay! I was just surprised is all.” He’s starting to wonder if the popcorn had gone bad. His stomach feels like it’s trying to eat itself. “I didn’t realize you two were… like that.” Is it a lie if it was just something he was actively denying?

 

“Well, we’re not, really.” Takashi’s hand had dropped from his neck and now was lying across his stomach. “Not yet, anyway. I think he feels the same way I do, though? I’m kinda hoping the dance will be what seals the deal.”

 

“Mhm,” Matt replies. He wonders if he should add something with a little more substance, but he’s not even sure what he’d say. Too much might give away the acid lapping at the back of his throat, but not enough could be just as bad. He settles for a casual nod along.

 

“Hey,” Takashi pokes his side with his heel, making Matt squirm, “you know I’m not going to spend the whole dance with him, right? You and I are still going to hang out and take dumb selfies and Cha Cha Slide and all that. It’s senior year, I can’t break tradition.” His lips are quirked up in that stupidly kind smile of his, and his eyes are soft. Matt can see the concern behind them. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t know _why_ he doesn’t like it.

 

He playfully slaps at Takashi’s leg and tries to cover whatever confusing feelings he’s having behind a teasing smirk. “You’d better, Shirogane. I also expect a ‘Single Ladies’ duet and dance routine outta you.”

 

Takashi gasps, his hand slapped to his chest. “How _dare you_ assume I would forget, Matthew.”

 

They both laugh, and even though something is still twisting in his chest, Matt can feel the atmosphere lighten a bit.

 

“So,” Takashi starts again, his tone sobered some. “Are we…? I mean, is this okay?” He winces at his own phrasing.

 

“You have my blessing,” Matt tells him, with a smile he hopes Takashi can’t tell is forced.

 

Takashi’s smile, however, is completely genuine. “Thanks, man.” He bops the back of Matt’s head with his leg affectionately. “That really means a lot, coming from you.”

 

They settle back into their marathon, Takashi eventually falling asleep with his legs still on top of Matt, who doesn’t move and instead grabs his pillow from the top of his bed and tucks it beneath his head. He doesn’t want to risk waking Takashi up (and, in the darkness, with no one around or awake to catch him in these thoughts, he admits that he doesn’t want to move from Takashi’s touch right now.) He’s exhausted, and his eyelids droop heavily, but sleep refuses to find him. As thoughts are prone to do in the face of uninhibiting quiet, they begin to wander.

 

Matt Holt is a man of science. His brain is wired so that when confronted with things he doesn’t understand, he breaks them down, runs scenario after scenario until he can _make_ himself understand. He studies, he experiments, documents and analyzes his results so that he can categorize things into boxes once he understands them.

In all the years he’d known Takashi Shirogane, he’d never been able to fit him neatly into any one box.

 

That night, however, right as he teeters on the edge of unconsciousness, the wires in his brain finally connect to the one segment they’d been missing, and it all clicks.

 

Takashi Shirogane is his oldest and closest friend, someone who he knows will be in his life forever, no matter what.

 

And he is also deeply, hopelessly in love with him.

 

* * *

 

 

It goes on like this, as time slips by. It never gets any easier. Matt had hoped that once he’d identified his feelings, it’d make them more manageable. As if naming the beast would give him some sort of power over it. To his dismay, it does not.

 

Adam and Takashi go to Homecoming together. Takashi doesn’t break any of his promises to Matt, but he also shares a handful of nervous, blushy slow dances with Adam. Matt opts to watch their snacks and save a table for them rather than find a partner of his own. At the end of the night, Takashi asks him if he enjoyed himself, and Matt is being honest when he tells him he did. He did have a good time, even when his stomach turned in on itself when Adam rested his cheek on Takashi’s shoulder during one particularly romantic song

 

They’re officially dating after that, all hand holding and whispers in ears and kisses on cheeks. It’s adorable, Matt admits, looking at where their hands are linked together across the lunch table (their spots never change, even with the addition of romantic feelings; Takashi is still beside Matt and across from Adam). His chest is a cyclone of twisting emotions, warm and cold fronts colliding into some sort of chaos that Matt is unable to get a hold on. It hurts, seeing them together, to see Adam doing things Matt aches for, to see Takashi showering Adam with the kind of attention Matt wants from him. What makes the ache even worse, he realizes, is how damn happy he is for Takashi. Crush or not, Takashi is easily one of the most important people in Matt’s life; his happiness comes first and foremost. And Takashi is very blatant in his happiness with Adam. His features have taken on a new sort of lightness that Matt has only seen him direct at the stars, and that makes the pangs in Matt’s chest and the unseen longing glances he throws at the couple all worth it.

 

So, he buries it down. He throws dirt over the fire and walks away, knowing the embers still glow and he’ll never be able to put them out, but at least he’s no longer sitting at the edge of the pit and hoping the warmth will seep into his aching bones.

 

He’s able to drown it out among the chaos of high school senior year. Feelings and pining pushed to the side to make room for college applications, essays, exams, ceremonies, essays, the suspense of waiting to hear back from colleges, and still more essays. By the time May rolls around and the end is finally in sight, Matt had managed to all but forget this thing he has for Takashi.

 

He, Takashi, and Adam all receive their acceptance letters from the Galaxy Garrison, the country’s leading aerospace exploration and scientific investigation program. “Oh shit,” Matt says, throwing himself over the back of the couch in Adam’s living room and his arms around Takashi’s shoulders from behind, holding his letter up so they both could see, “we’re finally going to find out where they’ve been hiding the aliens.”

 

Adam snorts from where he’s seated beside Takashi. “You really think they’re keeping live aliens there? With a bunch of teenagers running around?” They’ve had this sort of banter before. Matt’s wholehearted belief in extraterrestrial life and Adam’s cool-headed skepticism often clashed, but their arguments were always more playful than heated. And, as Takashi would always remind them, they’ll never _really_ know until they get out there and see for themselves, which is why they needed to get to the Garrison anyway.

 

“What if,” Matt says, holding up a finger, “the aliens are _disguised_ as teenagers?”

 

Takashi snorts.

 

Adam rises to Matt’s challenge. “How does that make sense? Why go through all the effort to make the aliens act and appear human when you could just as easily hide them somewhere else? If aliens really exist and must be hidden, why even take that risk?” He quirks an eyebrow as if to say, ‘beat that.’

 

Matt is still hanging over Takashi’s shoulders as he sympathetically pats him on the chest. “I’m sorry your boyfriend is a complete fool,” he says to him. “We’ve been over this, West. It’s to reduce suspicion! If they were being all shady and locked down, _everyone_ would suspect aliens, but if there’s a bunch of kids? No one would even look twice. As you just proved by rejecting my theory, right now. Again.”

 

Takashi now has his mouth hidden behind his hand, trying and failing to conceal his laughter. Matt fleetingly marvels at how cute the little crinkles around his eyes are.

 

Adam doesn’t hide his grin when he pokes Takashi’s side with his elbow. “Oh, so you’re siding with him now? I feel betrayed, ‘Kashi.”

 

“Hey, hey!” Takashi throws his hands up in surrender. “I’m not siding with anybody!” He bites his lip to hold back more chuckles.

 

“Alright then, since you’re the neutral party, whose theory makes the most sense?” Matt asks. “In a logical, sensible, neutral way.”

 

Takashi squirms a bit, but Matt reasons it’s at the sudden attention and pressure from the impending judgement, rather than Matt’s own weight still along his shoulders, or the warmth of Adam’s arms pressed up against his.

 

“Well,” Takashi begins, theatrically stroking his chin. “If we weigh the pros and cons of each theory, weighing it against the probabilities of discovery… I’m going to have to go with Matt’s theory.”

 

Matt whoops, pumping a fist in the air while Adam draws out a disappointed “Whaaaat?”.

 

“How?” Adam asks. “There’s no way you could actually believe there’s alien teenagers at the Garrison.”

 

“I don’t, necessarily,” Takashi explains. “But we can’t really disprove it either. So it’s a draw, there. But Matt’s theory is more fun, so it wins.”

 

“Ha!” Matt’s grin is smug.

 

“Cheater.”

 

“Whatever, West.”

 

“I’ll concede defeat,” Adam leans back against the couch. “I just think the idea of alien kids or whatever is ridiculous.”

 

“We’ll just have to wait and see for ourselves,” Takashi reminds them.

 

* * *

 

“You’re taking him out _again_?”

 

Matt is just outside of Takashi and Adam’s apartment in the Garrison’s housing division, his fist raised to knock, when he hears Adam’s muffled snap on the other side of the door. In the years they’d been living, studying, and now working there, it’s not the first time he’s caught them having this particular… discussion.

 

“Adam, he has literally _no one_ in his life right now. It’s a Friday night, so I want to take the kid out so he’s not moping around his room or fucking off into the desert by himself again.” There’s a brief pause, and Matt can hear Takashi’s annoyed sigh through the door. “And I’ve told you a thousand times, you’re more than welcome to come, too.”

 

“Yeah,” Adam’s voice is sour, “we haven’t gone on a single actual date in, what, three? Four? Five months? I _so_ want to spend the tiny amount of free time we have chaperoning some punk kid who only communicates with me through death glares.”

 

Matt knows this is the part where Takashi starts grinding his teeth. “If you gave him a chance, maybe he’d open up to you a little bit. Matt doesn’t seem to have a problem.”

 

That’s not entirely true. The kid’s still quiet around him, nothing like he is with Takashi, but Matt doesn’t take it as personally as Adam has and at least tries to engage with him. He is an older brother, after all; he’s learned a thing or two about how to act around grumpy teenagers.

 

“Of course, _Matt’s_ just so wonderful.”

 

Oh, that one was new.

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Nothing,” Adam deflects. Doesn’t sound like nothing, Matt thinks. “Why can’t the two of them just do something, then, if you’re so concerned about him? Why do you have to go?”

 

“Adam,” Takashi sounds exhausted at this point. This round has already gone on longer than usual. “You know why I can’t do that.”

 

“I’m not asking you to abandon him!” Matt of course can’t see them through the door, but he’s seen them bicker enough over the years to know exactly what Adam’s face looks like. His eyebrows are pinched together, his mouth hung open just slightly, frowning, and at least one arm hanging half in the air. “I’m just asking for _one_ night, Takashi. For just the two of us.”

 

“We’ve been over this, Adam!” While Adam had been on the verge of pleading, Takashi was finished. “Keith is in a very delicate, fragile place right now. But he’s making _such_ great progress. If I were to do this to him, to break a promise like this, he’d lose all of that and be right back to where he was before.”

 

“Then maybe you should stop making those promises.”

 

“He needs the promises. I’m not doing that to him.”

 

“What about your promises to me, hm?”

 

Matt really should leave. He’s already been here too long. But his feet won’t work and he’s terrified that if he moves - if he even _breathes_ \- they’ll hear him.

 

“You’re _leaving_ in a few months, Takashi. I never see you anymore. Between training, and Keith, and everything else… I just feel like I don’t mean anything to you anymore.”

 

“You know that isn’t true-”

 

“Do I?” Adam cuts in. “How would I know, when I always seem to be the last thing on your priority list? When you make time for _Matt_ but not for me?”

 

The hairs on the back of Matt’s neck stand.

 

Takashi suddenly belts out an incredulous laugh. “Matt and I are on the mission together! Of course I’m going to spend a lot of time with him! And even if we weren’t, he’s my best friend! I’m allowed to spend time with him!” There’s a twinge in Matt’s chest at the defense. He doesn’t like to think about how something as small as that still affects him after all these years. “And unlike you, Matt makes time to work _with_ my schedule instead of trying to take me away from things that are important to me!”

 

“Oh no, that’s not what’s happening here! You make time for everybody and everything else in your life except for me. You fit Matt, or Keith, or whoever the hell in but for some reason, not your _boyfriend_.”

 

“Ha!” Takashi is past his breaking point now. Matt can’t even remember the last time he’d heard him get this heated. “Wasn’t I just trying to invite you to dinner with us? Or did that not count, since I apparently can’t spend time with multiple people at once?”

 

“Ok, you know what? I’ve had it.” Matt hears something slam. No one cried out, and it sounded like a book hitting a countertop, so he’s hoping that’s all it was. “I’m tired of this, since you clearly aren’t understanding my point.”

 

“Your _point?!_ ”

 

This was Matt’s point, now. He’d been here far too long, he shouldn’t be here. He takes in a shallow breath and holds it, sliding one foot behind him and slowly rolling his foot flat, then the next. He knows, reasonably, if he just turned and left they still wouldn’t hear him, but with the tension so thick every movement felt heavy, every tiny disturbance like a fanfare. He keeps this up, backing down the hall, step by step, until he reaches the end. He twists himself around the corner and leans back against the wall, finally letting his breath out.

 

He’d known Takashi and Adam had been having problems lately. Takashi had let things slip on occasion. He knew of Adam’s distaste for their upcoming mission to Kerberos, and the friction between him and Keith was more than obvious. But he never would’ve guessed things were this bad.

 

He makes his way to the elevator at the end of the hallway and punches the button for the first floor. He shoots a quick text to Keith to meet them there in about fifteen minutes. He figures Takashi will be running a bit late. The elevator _dings_ , and Matt steps out. He chews his lip, a finger tapping on the side of his phone while he waits for Keith’s affirmative text. Was this the best idea? On one hand, after that blow out, Takashi will probably want some space. Going out with them might provide the breather he needs, a chance to laugh and take his mind off what had happened with Adam. But on the other hand… what if it just makes things worse? Adam’s whole issue seemed to be that he and Takashi weren’t spending enough time together. Would this really be in his best interest…?

 

His phone vibrates in his hand. It’s a message from Takashi, answering his worried thoughts for him.

 

_“Sorry, running a little late! Be down there in five! :-)”_

 

He always uses that dumb smiley with the nose. Matt wonders if he sometimes forgets he’s a grown man, teacher, and astronaut of all things. In spite of the heavy feelings from earlier, Matt feels a little warmth bubble up in his chest. The corner of his lip twitches upward for just a second, and he lets himself indulge in the burst of affection. He resolves that if Takshi was still choosing them over Adam for the night, he’d do his level best to make his friend feel loved and appreciated. It’s his job as Best Friend, after all.

 

Keith meets him first. Matt tries to engage him in lighthearted conversation, but Keith only gives him nods and disinterested ‘mhm’s to work with, hands shoved in the pockets of his red and white hoodie. Thankfully, Takashi shows up before the awkwardness stretches too far.

 

“Hey! Sorry I’m late. Some stuff came up.” That’s one way of putting it. Matt gives him a quick once over, and if he didn’t know any better, he might have missed the slight puffiness around Takashi’s eyes, or the way his smile seems a tad forced and a touch too thin. “Anyways, we should get going. There’s this new burger joint in town I’ve been dying to try-”

 

“Yeah, we _know_ ,” Keith whines, ever the exasperated teenager. Matt almost wants to scold him for leaning so hard into the stereotype. “You’ve been going on about it all week. Let’s go, Shiro.”

 

“Yeah, Shiro, let’s go! I’m starvin’!” Matt always felt a little stiff using the nickname, but since it had been given to Takashi during flight school, it just seemed to spread throughout the Garrison and he just went with it, at least in public. He rather likes keeping ‘Takashi’ as something between them, anyway. Well, them and Adam. But Matt isn’t going to dwell on that right now.

 

* * *

 

With each day that passes after their argument, Matt wishes more and more that he hadn’t heard it. Maybe, if he hadn’t heard them, if he was ignorant to just how tense their relationship had become he wouldn’t have noticed the stiffness in Takashi’s back as they walk to class in the morning, or the way each smile he brings to his face seems like a herculean effort.

 

A heavy blanket of guilt settles over his shoulders. He’s in his lab, staring at his computer screen, reading the same line of code over and over because the characters aren’t making sense any more. He sighs, and slumps his forehead against the desk. He should say something, shouldn’t he? His friend is going through something painful, he should be reaching out to him and offering a shoulder to lean on. But Takashi is clearly trying to keep this under wraps, and Matt shouldn’t have even heard their conversation in the first place. He doesn’t want to talk about this, for whatever reason, and Matt should respect that, right? Shouldn’t he be respecting his friend’s wishes, and wait there for Takashi to come to him when he was ready?

 

That was the thing, Matt realizes. Takashi _isn’t_ talking to him about this. Not openly, not directly, anyway. The two of them had shared everything with each other, as far back as Matt could remember. The stark image of a nervous Takashi, face illuminated by the black and white visage of Rod Serling, asking for what Matt could only describe as _his blessing_ as he confesses his crush on Adam comes to mind. He’d been open about his feelings even back then, so, after all these years, what has changed?

 

The last thing Matt wants to do is question any part of his relationship with Takashi. It’s bad enough on the rare occasions when the softly glowing coals of his… of his _crush_ flare to life, when he’s still able to stomp them out with the assurance that he and Takashi love each other (albeit in a different way than Matt wants) and are some of the most important people in each other’s lives. If uncertainty were to creep in to that aspect of their relationship, to force its palms down against the hairline fractures in his heart, if Matt were to lose him….

 

No, he pries the car doors open and promptly leaves the station for that train of thought. He isn’t losing his friend, they are simply entering a new and uncharted territory. Takashi had found himself on this new path, scared and confused, and it was up to Matt to map it out for him-- _with him._

 

Matt understands what it's like when your heart feels fragile in your chest. He won’t push Takashi. He’ll wait, with the superglue and the duct tape at his side, arms wide open when Takashi is ready for them.

 

* * *

 

As it happens, that time would come sooner than Matt expected.

 

It’s only been about a week or so since his accidental eavesdropping. It’s late, late enough that even Matt was beginning to realize he should be in bed rather than behind his tablet screen, when a knock at his door has him nearly throwing the device across the room. It’s also late enough that Matt’s thoughts are beginning to wander to those dark and suspicious places one’s thoughts go, where the clothes pile in the corner may or may not be a demon, and running really fast down the halls keeps them from catching you. As he creeps slowly to the door, he realizes his lack of weapon against the probable alien invasion happening just on the other side, and curls one hand into a fist.

 

He cracks the door open, blinking against the lights in the hallway, as the figure on the other side comes into focus.

 

“Takashi?” His fist relaxes as his eyebrows pinch together. “What are you doing here? It’s late--”

 

“I- I know,” Takashi says, and Matt’s spine stiffens when he hears how his words wobble. “I’m sorry, I just… I needed somewhere to go.”

 

Matt opens his door all the way, motioning for Takashi to step inside. “Of course. You know my door is always open for you.”

 

As Takashi moves past him into the room, Matt takes the opportunity to give him a once over. His shoulders are hunched, and his gaze is locked on the floor. He has one arm wrapped around his chest, the other scratching at the base of his undercut. His back is still mostly towards Matt, so he can’t get a good look at his face, but he can hear him sniffle.

 

Matt moves to flick the lightswitch on, but stops when Takashi waves an arm at him. “No, no, you can leave it off. It’s late, I don’t… I don’t want to wake you up more than I already have.”

 

He leaves the light off, but moves toward Takashi who is still just standing in the center of the room. “Hey, you know you’re welcome here anytime but… are-- is everything okay?”

 

Takashi breathes in, shakily, and when he exhales, his head hangs low. “It’s… it’s late, you have lab work tomorrow, I can’t--”

 

“Takashi Shirogane, you know I was up anyway, and I don’t give a shit about labs if there’s something you need from me.” He approaches his friend, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. When Takashi doesn’t flinch away, he starts rubbing his thumb back and forth softly. His voice low, he asks, “Do you want to talk?”

 

Takashi doesn’t respond for a moment, and then Matt hears a thin whine from the back of his throat, and knows he’s trying to hold back a sob. He blinks once, twice, in the darkness, regretting having taken his glasses off earlier, and finally gets a good look at Takashi’s face. His lips are pursed tightly, his bottom lip curled in and pinched between his teeth. There’s just enough light still coming from his tablet at this angle that, squinting, he can make out that his eyes are still red and watery, and tear tracks marr his cheeks. It takes another beat, but then he’s nodding, eyes clenched shut, though a single tear manages to escape and roll down the paths already carved by ones before it.

 

Matt gives his shirtsleeve a tug, leading him toward the loveseat he’d previously occupied. Takashi all but falls down onto the cushions, leaning forward, elbows pressing into his knees and his face buried in his hands. Matt sits next to him, unsure about whether to give him space or wrap his arms around him. He settles for a hand on his back, soothing up and down along his spine. It’s quiet, save for the slow, muffled breaths Takashi hides behind his hands.

 

“Adam…” he eventually chokes out, his voice ragged, “...he uh, we… broke up.”

 

Matt’s hand stills for only a fraction of a moment, then continues it’s trailing. Something heavy falls in Matt’s stomach, landing low in his gut and splashing up acid that makes his chest burn.

 

“Oh,” he says, his tone oddly neutral. If asked, Matt would not be able to tell how he had felt in that moment. It was like a bad plot twist; he had seen it coming for a while and built up an expectation, but god, he had hoped it wouldn’t actually happen. “I’m so, so sorry, Takashi.”

 

Takashi removes his hands from his face, and uses one palm to rub the tear tracks from his cheeks. His head hangs, eyes unfocused on the floor. “It’s-- he’s been thinking about this for a while, I think. And tonight was just… _it_ . We’ve been fighting about stuff for a while and I _thought_ we were going to work on it and get through this but- but I guess… not.” He’s quiet for a moment, then, his voice so small Matt almost didn’t catch it, he adds, “He ended it. Just like that.”

 

The echoes of their overheard argument still rattle around in Matt’s mind sometimes. If tonight had been anything like that…. He doesn’t want to prod at the open wound, but he knows Takashi needs to start talking through this, or he could end up wallowing in these feelings for too long. It’s something Matt has become somewhat of an expert on, and doesn’t want to subject his friend to.

 

“That’s awful. I just… I’m sorry.” He tries to be careful with his words, but he knows it wouldn’t matter to Takashi. _Just tell me, I can take it_ , he’d say, with that wide and caring happily-carries-the-world-on-his-shoulders smile. “If you can talk about it, why were you two fighting?”

 

“I can talk about it,” Takashi says. He doesn’t say anything further, and Matt wonders if maybe he realized he couldn’t. Then, Takashi’s leans back against the cushions, and lets out a deep sigh. “He’s… he was upset about how much time I’ve been spending with Keith, and with you. Which is complete bullshit, because I’m always asking him to come with us, _and he’s the one turning me down_. But whatever! Apparently it’s still somehow my fault.”

 

Matt turns, pulling one leg up on the loveseat, so he’s facing Takashi. “So, that’s why he broke up with you? Because he’s mad you’re spending time with me and Keith?”

 

“Well, that -” it seems to Matt like he’s veering away from sad and more toward angry, which isn’t necessarily an improvement, but it’s something - “and he’s pissed about the Kerberos mission. He thinks I shouldn’t be taking a mission that’s for so long, and he acts like I’m fucking _abandoning_ him or something, which doesn’t make any sense. Completely disregarding that a mission like this has been my dream since we were kids, that the whole reason I’d even applied to the Garrison is because I wanted to go to space! But he just kept going on and on about how I keep _‘choosing’_ everyone and everything over him, which just-- _ugh!_ ” He makes a fist in one hand and slams it against the armrest.

 

“Well, that’s pretty fucked up,” Matt says.

 

“Thank you!” Takashi says, gesturing towards Matt. “I kept telling him how that wasn’t true, that I’m not choosing anything over anyone, but he kept insisting I’m wrong. How can I be wrong about my own feelings? But then I told him, fine, let’s try to find a way to work this out, then. But then he--” his voice cracked, and Matt knew that final straw was coming. “He said… and shit, I can still hear it clear as day, he said, ‘You don’t care about me like you care about them. You don’t want me anymore, and--’” Takashi takes a beat, whether it’s to remember Adam’s words, or to hold back tears, Matt doesn’t know -- “and he says, ‘and I can’t be in a relationship where I’m not someone’s first choice.’”

 

Matt hears a sniffle, and then Takashi’s bringing a hand up against his face again. There’s a hiccup, and then the sobs are coming again.

 

Takashi Shirogane is strong. Probably the strongest person Matt knows. He readily offers a shoulder and an ear for those in pain, carries more responsibility than most people of his age and rank. He faces challenges head on with his fists raised, and when he gets knocked down - which isn’t often, as he has a determination and drive strong enough to power the space shuttles he flies through willpower alone - he gets right back up, shakes himself off, and takes another step forward. So, seeing him like this, slumped and brokenhearted, rings dissonant in his mind.

 

Matt isn’t sure what he should say. Another ‘I’m sorry’ feels too small, too empty. Takashi had just lost someone he’d entrusted his heart to for nearly five years, someone he’d believed he had - and planned for - a future with. He could take a stab at Adam, some icy voice in the back of his mind whispers. He promptly stomps that thought out. This is not what this is about. This is about Takashi, and his pain, not some contrived rivalry the petty parts of himself would try to invoke on bad days.

 

Instead, he leans forward, presses his forehead against Takashi’s shoulder, and wraps his arms around him. The sobbing doesn’t ebb, but Takashi’s head falls against Matt’s hair, and a hand rests on his bicep, returning the embrace. He isn’t sure how long they sit there, Matt trying to will himself into siphoning the pain from Takashi’s chest into his own, but eventually the cries give way to quiet sniffles and slower, softer breaths. A somber ambience settles over them like a scratchy woolen blanket; it’s heavy, just uncomfortable enough to notice it, but warm nonetheless.

 

When he reasons things have calmed enough, he nuzzles his cheek against Takashi’s shoulder to get his attention. His friend gives a soft hum in reply. Matt, voice low, asks, “Hey, wanna watch a movie?”

 

Matt can’t see it, but Takashi smiles into his hair. “Sounds like a good idea. Whatcha got?”

 

It feels like he’s having to deadlift a thousand pounds, but Matt drags himself from the embrace. He slaps his hand around behind him, feeling for his discarded tablet. Somehow, it had gotten wedged between the cushion and the armrest, and he’s thankful neither of them had sat on it. “Well,” he says, pulling his legs up onto the couch behind him and leaning back against Takashi’s side, angling the tablet towards him and opening the videos folder, “take your pick.”

 

Takashi reaches over and begins flicking through the selection. “Damn, no _Wonder Woman_?”

 

“I know, sorry. This is my backup tablet. All the good stuff’s on my big one, down in the lab.”

 

Takashi hums, his eyes darting back and forth between two movie files before tapping one of them.“Let’s go with this one then. You know I love the big robots.”

 

“Pfft, who doesn’t?” Matt says as the opening theme begins to play. He settles the tablet on his lap, angled for both of them to see. A few minutes in, he feels Takashi’s cheek fall against his hair again.

 

Takashi had always been the kind of person to square his shoulders and hold his head high, even in the worst crisis. He posited himself as the knight in shining armor, the ever weary Atlas who carries not just his own, but everyone else’s problems on his shoulders because he hates to see people struggle and fall. So, for him to allow Matt to see him like this, with the facade broken down and his weak underbelly laid bare, he knows is something incredibly rare and even more valuable. It’s a show of trust Takashi doesn’t take lightly, but Matt is more than happy to bear the burden, to stand as a steady rock of support against the waves that are beating down on his friend. He’d always considered it the highest honor to see Takashi in his most open and vulnerable states, a true show of friendship and love. Something warm settles in his chest at the thought. He hopes Takashi feels something similar.

 

With his eyes having adjusted to the screen, the surrounding room was completely black. It created a sort of bubble around the two of them, leaning against one another on the hand-me-down loveseat Matt had stolen from the garage on moving day. Nothing existed beyond the just-too-bright tablet screen and Takashi beside him. Matt lets himself indulge in this, lets himself relish the closeness. A fleeting cliché passes through his mind, something about wanting to stay in this moment as long as possible, but he lets the thought leave as fast as it came. As true as it is, it’s not worth dwelling on.

 

Takashi shifts just slightly beside him, letting out a sleepy sigh, pulling Matt from his reverie. “Ooh, it’s coming,” he says. On the screen, the team of superheroes are preparing themselves for the final push against their robotic opponent. “If you get hurt,” Takashi begins, in time with the character on screen, “hurt ‘em back. If you get killed…” he dramatically turns toward Matt, “walk it off.”

 

Matt grins at him. “It’s a good line, even if the movie’s only okay.”

 

“It’s like, the only reason I watch it.”

 

“Really?” Matt quirks a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “The _only_ reason?”

 

Takashi sharply exhales through his nose. “Okay, okay. I also watch it for Thor.”

 

“There we go,” Matt says. “Gotta keep you honest.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Takashi says, a yawn dragging out the last word.

 

By the time the movie wraps up, both of them are struggling to keep their eyes open. Matt closes the video app but leaves the tablet open for light. “You can take the bed,” he tells Takashi, gesturing toward it on the other side of the room.

 

“Matt, it’s your room, I can’t-”

 

“Can it, Shirogane. Take the bed. You deserve it. Besides, you’re too tall to fit on the couch.”

 

Takashi grumbles, but eventually gives in. He shuffles toward the bed, but stops, staring down at it and not getting in. Matt is about to question him, when he speaks up. “I uh, don’t have anything to sleep in.”

 

“Oh,” Matt says, and gives him a quick once over and concludes that no, the (probably used) workout clothes he’d arrived in would not be comfortable for sleep. He pads over to the dresser beside his bed, and if it wasn’t so dark, would have seen the questioning look Takashi shot him. He rummages around in the bottom drawer for a moment, before pulling out two large rolls. “Here,” he says, tossing them at Takashi, who catches one as the other falls onto the bed.

 

“Are these…?” he trails off as he unravels one roll to find a worn purple hoodie, far too big for Matt’s thin frame.

 

“Uh,” Matt gives an uncomfortable laugh, “Yeah I kinda accidentally stole those from you a while back. I think when we stayed at your parents’ place over the holidays that one time? I meant to give them back, but it was cold and they’re pretty cozy and then it was just too long and so…” Matt tugs at a lock of hair around his face.

 

“No no, it’s fine, man! I don’t care if you take my clothes.” Takashi slips his shirt off then tugs the hoodie over his bare torso. “I just didn’t know you had them.” Matt pulls some clothes of his own out of the dresser and starts changing as Takashi pulls the pair of black sweatpants he’d been given on. “It’s kinda funny, this used to be my favorite hoodie back in high school, but now it totally smells like that weird detergent you use.”

 

“Hey, leave my sensitive skin detergent alone! It’s not my fault it only comes in one scent.”

 

“I didn’t say it was bad! Just weird.”

 

“That means the same thing and you know it. I see right through your overly polite lies, Takashi.”

 

Takashi gives him a small chuckle, and it’s the closest thing to a genuine laugh he’s gotten all night. A small bubble of pride floats up Matt’s chest. As he settles into the sheets and Matt curls under a blanket on the loveseat, he mumbles a final “It’s not bad at all” into the pillow.

 

Matt ends up staring at the ceiling for longer than he would have liked to, waiting for the last dregs of tension to release from his body so sleep could take its place. He still isn’t sure how they’ll deal with this Adam situation, going forward. Takashi would have to request a new apartment from the Garrison, which will land him a series of sympathetic looks from the boarding staff that Matt knows he’ll hate. He’s never liked pity. With both of them still living and working on campus, crossing paths and even working together are inevitable. He doesn’t doubt the professionalism of either of them, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be uncomfortable.

 

And then, of course, Matt had to consider his own role in this equation. He’ll take Takashi’s side, hands down. They’ve known each other far longer than they’ve known Adam, have been with each other through enough of life’s ups and downs to know they can count on each other to have their backs. But he and Adam have still been friends for years. He isn’t sure how it’ll go if they were to run into each other. Would Adam know where Matt’s allegiances lie? Would he ask for a shoulder to cry on as well? Would Matt even be able to offer that, knowing how things ended between him and his best friend? If he doesn’t, is that cruel?

 

His mind is still buzzing after what has to have been at least an hour, when he hears a small whine coming from across the room. Sitting up on his elbows, he whispers Takashi’s name into the darkness.

 

“Oh, sorry,” he replies, his voice low, but clearly strained from trying to keep quiet. “I thought you were asleep.”

 

“No, it’s fine. But… are you? Fine, that is.”

 

“I’m…” He sighs. “No, I’m… I’m not.” Matt’s about to ask him to elaborate, but he beats him to the punch. “Could you… would it be weird to ask you to sleep next to me?” His voice is small, uncertain, and it makes Matt’s chest ache.

 

He’s already on his feet by the time he responds. “Of course it wouldn’t. We’ve shared beds plenty of times, man.” He’s pulling back the covers as Takashi scoots back against the wall. “I know I’m a world class cuddler and my detergent smells _great_ , but can I ask…?”

 

He lets the sentence trail off, but Takashi figures what he meant. “I guess it’s just kinda lonely, is all.” Matt nods. His bed wasn’t really meant to fit more than one person, so it’s a bit cramped, but neither seem to mind much. Matt’s on his side, facing Takashi, who’s somewhere in between sideways and on his stomach. They scooch a bit closer, and Takashi maneuvers himself so that he’s more or less tucked under Matt’s chin. Almost on instinct, Matt tosses an arm around his shoulders. They’re close enough that, even though it’s barely a whisper, Matt hears his next words clear. “When he kick-- I mean, when I left, he was already getting ready for bed. And the photo on the nightstand, next to our bed - the one from our first anniversary, you remember that one - it’d been knocked over. And the frame was cracked. I don’t even know if he’d realized but just… is it stupid that something so small, out of everything that happened, is bothering me so much?”

 

“Of course it isn’t stupid,” Matt says, rubbing his thumb along where it rests on Takashi’s shoulder blade.

 

Takashi hums a reply, and it’s quiet after that.

 

The last thing Matt remembers before he finally drifts off is Takashi nuzzling closer to him.

 

* * *

 

Over the next few days, Matt helps Takashi move out of his and Adam’s apartment. They time it so Adam is teaching or otherwise occupied, minimizing the risk of running into one another. They work in quiet.

 

Takashi moves into a room one hall over from Matt, but they end up spending most of their free time in Matt’s room. As a student, Keith isn’t allowed into the faculty apartments, but Takashi keeps his promises and the three of them still have regular outings between their normal workload and the beginning Kerberos preparations.

 

To someone on the outside, Takashi seems to be taking things well. The first week or two, he’s a bit quieter than normal, passes up a few opportunities to go out for drinks with his coworkers, but assured them it was exhaustion from training rather than anything else. When one of them shoots a concerned eyebrow quirk in Matt’s direction, he waves his hand dismissivly. They’d nod and carry on. The moment they’d turn the corner, out of sight, Takashi’s shoulders would drop and his face would fall, like the weight of holding up the mask of apathy had finally become too much. Matt is the only one privileged to these small moments of truth, of vulnerability, and in turn he made it his responsibility to keep others from prying. Shooing away well-meaning but invasive acquaintances, dealing with an antsy Keith, or devising cover stories for Takashi’s bad days are becoming second nature to him. But the small, grateful smile Takashi sends his way is worth it.

 

As the final months before launch begin to count down, the mission starts to feel real to the two of them. Takashi starts spending the night more often, with increasingly unbelievable excuses. This week, his claim is that they’ll be living in cramped quarters during the mission, so they should start getting used to it now. Matt debates coming back at him with the fact that their shuttle is the size of a small apartment and much, much larger than Matt’s tiny dorm, but then Takashi curls himself up on the loveseat and tucks the spare blanket around himself, and Matt keeps his mouth shut.

 

It doesn’t happen every night, but sometimes, when Matt is still teetering just on the edge of sleep, there will be a rustling behind him and a wall of warmth against his back. He gave up trying to sneak out before Matt awoke after the first few failed attempts, but neither of them say much about it. Matt knows he’s still hurting, still lonely. If sleeping next to a warm body helps, Matt’s more than happy to oblige.

 

With less than two months before launch, their days are spread thin. They’ve been relieved of nearly all their normal duties to devote the remainder of their time on the mission. For Matt, this involves doubling down on his zero gravity training, as he had the least off-Earth experience of the three people on their team, as well as regular checks to the on-board laboratory and inventory. In the late afternoons, the entire team, including Mission Control, gather together to go over flight plans - recalculating and confirming flight time, oxygen and fuel storage, fine tuning trajectory accounting for gravitational effects on the shuttle, rehashing the actual goals of the mission, down to the amenities they’d requesting to bring on board. As this portion of the meeting usually comes last, when everyone is most exhausted, Matt always makes a point to insist on bringing no less than four different video game consoles and at least a dozen different games for each, which elicits a chuckle from at least half the table.

 

He’s almost back to his room after one of these meetings when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s from Takashi, and the message stops him in his tracks. He bites the corner of his lip, checking the time and running it against schedules he’d memorized back when things had first fallen apart. If he hurried, he _should_ be in and out before… He turned on his heel, back toward the elevators, the low echoes of his footsteps in the empty halls a mirror to his increasing heart rate.

 

The elevator _dings_ and he steps into an identical hallway, the lights beginning to dim to their night mode. He’s walked this path a thousand times, muscle memory bringing him back to a simple grey door, indistinguishable from its companions save for the black _701_ painted at eye level. There’s a keypad and card reader to the right; he feels around underneath it, and in the tiny space between the device and the wall, pulls out the spare keycard he knew Adam and Takashi had kept hidden there. He swipes it, the door sliding open with a metallic _swoosh_. He stuffs the keycard in his pocket and pulls out his phone to double check which item Takashi had left here and requested he pick up.

 

“Matt?”

 

He nearly drops his phone, stumbling back a good three steps before regaining his footing. “Adam! I didn’t realize you’d be home.”

 

Adam, whose head had appeared from around the corner of the hallway that lead to the bedroom, steps out into the main living quarters and perches on one of the barstools by the kitchenette. “The kids had field training today, no class for me.” His eyebrows furrow, lips pursing together. “Can I ask why you’re here, or…?”

 

“Oh,” Matt says, straightening, “oh, yeah. Takashi, he told me he left some stuff here and asked if I could stop by…” His eyes wander around the room, almost afraid of what he’ll see if he meets Adam’s gaze. It hasn’t changed much, he notes absently, save missing a handful of Takashi’s photos and the odd knickknack he’d taken with him.

 

Adam sweeps his arm out, gesturing toward the whole of the apartment. “Take whatever you need.”

 

“Thanks,” Matt says with a nod.

 

He moves past Adam and toward the storage closet in the hallway, where Takashi had mentioned his items would be. He rummages around, his arm buried deep in the back of the closet, before he finds the distinct texture of Grandma Shirogane’s knitted throw. He pulls it out, careful not to topple the stacks of other blankets, and slings it over his arm. He spends another few minutes rifling through the bathroom cabinet, before tugging out Takashi’s raggedy old beach towel. He’s had it since middle school, and whatever cartoon design had been printed on it had faded with time. It was threadbare, practically useless for actually drying anything, but Takashi was attached to it, so Matt was to retrieve it.

 

He heads back toward the front room, both garments folded over his arm. Adam is still seated on the barstool, a cup of steaming tea now in front of him.

 

Matt clears his throat to grab his attention. “I got the stuff, so I'll be,” he tilts his head toward the door, “heading out now.”

 

Adam nods.

 

Matt’s at the door and is shuffling for the keycard in his pocket, when Adam speaks. “How is he?”

 

Matt almost doesn’t hear him, and blinks as the words process. “He’s….” Good? Fine? Thriving? Can’t sleep by himself anymore? “...busy. You know, with the mission. And everything.” He shrugs.

 

Adam nods again, his eyes searching for something in his teacup. “You’re a good friend, Matt. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry things ended this way.” Out of the corner of his eye, his gaze meets Matt’s.

 

He holds the contact for a moment, then drops it. “I just try to do for him what I know he’d do for me. And… me too.” He shuffles his weight from foot to foot. “But, well, sometimes people just want different things, I guess.”

 

Matt’s eyes are still downcast, so he misses the way Adam’s rake over him, appraisingly. “Yeah. I guess they do.” He sighs, takes a sip of his tea. “I know things are still fresh, but I hope there’s no hard feelings between us.”

 

Matt chews on it for a moment. He doesn’t hate Adam. He knows Takashi doesn’t either, really. But… he doesn’t know if he’s ready to go that far yet. Somewhere, on another floor, in another room, his best friend is still hurting from something caused by him. So, he grits his teeth behind closed lips, and reaches for the door. “It was good to see you, Adam.”

 

His shoulders fall, just a fraction. “Good to see you, too.” Before the door can close behind Matt, he adds, “If I don’t see you before launch, I hope the mission goes well.”

 

“Thanks,” Matt replies. He takes one last glance toward Adam. He’s stirring his tea, slow, his eyebrows pinched. Matt slips the keycard back in its hiding spot as the door slides closed.

 

* * *

 

“Takashiiii,” Matt whines, drawing out ‘i’ and he flops into the empty copilot’s chair. The cockpit of the _Orpheus_ was cramped enough as it was, between the expansive control panel, blinking lights and buttons in an array of colors so wide Matt wasn’t sure how Takashi ever managed to keep track of them. He was the sole pilot on the mission, so Matt wasn’t sure why they bothered with the extra seat, when they could’ve given more room to Takashi.

 

When Takashi cracks a grin at his dramatics, Matt reasons that company is probably why. “Maaaatt,” Takashi mocks, dragging out the ‘a.’ He doesn’t turn toward him, keeping his hands on the controls and his eyes responsibly on expanse of space before them, only occasionally darting back to the control board to check his readings.

 

Matt’s sprawled across the chair, his limbs dangling off the edges. He kicks the floor with one foot, spinning the chair to face his friend. “Are we there yet?”

 

Takashi taps something on the holoscreen projected onto the window, and string of numbers scrolls across the screen. “Well, we just passed Saturn a couple weeks ago, so, no.”

 

“Ugh,” Matt groans. “It’s been forever. Can’t you fly this thing any faster?”

 

“Dude, it’s only been like, two months.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s like, _forever_.” Takashi gives him a chuckle. He stretches across the space between them and plops his head on Takashi’s arm. “Can’t you put this thing on autopilot or something?”

 

Takashi briefly removes one hand from the controls to pat Matt’s head, ruffling his hair a bit, then returns it. “Not today. There’s a rogue comet nearby, and I gotta make sure we don’t crash into it.”

 

“Lame.” He blows a stray hair from his face, and feels a surge of fondness in his chest. The easy affection between them always made his heart melt a little.

 

Takashi snorts. “We should be out of its orbital course tomorrow, so I’ll be free then.” He pulls up another holoscreen and presses a few buttons. Matt isn’t sure what he’s doing, but his gaze is hard and focused. How he manages to balance the intensity of his piloting and hold a conversation, Matt doesn’t know, but Takashi has told him he enjoys the company.

 

Matt hasn’t moved his head from his arm yet, though the stretch is beginning to hurt his back. “Good. I’m bored out of my mind and my dad keeps trying to make me play board games with him.”

 

“Yikes,” Takashi says, pressing a few buttons to make a quick scan of their area for the comet. “Well, tomorrow we’ll do something actually fun. Play some video games or binge some movies or whatever.”

 

“Thank god. I’m gonna hold you to that, Shirogane.” He sits up, back into his own chair, and pulls his feet up on the seat. “Still doesn’t solve my _today_ problem, though.”

 

Takashi purses his lips, his eyebrows drawing together. It’s his thinking face, and Matt is grateful he’s so focussed on the window and doesn’t see the smitten grin it brings to his own. It was completely unfair for him to be that cute. “Hm, I don’t know, man. Read a book?”

 

“I just finished the big series I bought yesterday. I can’t start a new book yet, I’m burnt out.”

 

“Uh,” he tilts his head to the side, just a touch. “Write a book? Or maybe just like, write out stuff you want to do, or like to do. Yeah! Write out the things you want to do, and we can work our way through the list over the rest of the trip.” He turns toward Matt now, eyes wide and an open grin across his face.

 

Matt’s heart might have skipped a beat. Completely unfair of him. He bites the inside of his lip, an attempt to keep his expression under control. “Takashi, did you really just suggest I make a list to cure my boredom? That’s the nerdiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

 

Takashi replies with a full laugh then, and Matt bites his lip a little harder. “Please, that’s nothing. We all know you’re the king of the nerds. I bet you still try to pick up girls with those periodic table puns we looked up back in middle school.”

 

“Excuse you,” Matt says, poking his shoulder, “it’s not just girls. Those pick up lines are equal opportunity, you know that. And they’re _good_. I have no shame in that.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Takashi’s smirk is audible in his words, “then how come they’ve landed you exactly _zero_ dates?”

 

Matt could tell him that every attempt he’s made at flirting with other people has been half-hearted at most, but it didn’t seem like the right time to bring up his whole pining issue. “Beats me, man. They’re missing out.”

 

“Hell yeah they are. You’re a catch, man.” He shoots a playful wink at Matt, and even though they’ve shared a thousand of those between them over the years, it still makes Matt’s chest pang. “You just haven’t found the right person yet who will appreciate it.”

 

Matt snorts. “I guess so.” Then, his brows furrow, one quirking up at the corner. “How’d you go from roasting me to gassing me up in like, two seconds?”

 

Takashi wags a finger in the air, turning back toward the window. “Ah, yes, the patented Shirogane Roast ‘n’ Boast. Family secret.”

 

Matt gives him a gentle swat on the shoulder as he rises from his chair. “Get back to work before you make us crash into an asteroid or whatever.”

 

“It’s a _comet_. You’re literally an astronaut.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go make some lists. See you later,” he’s just on the other side of the doorway when he turns back, and cups one hand at the side of his mouth, “nerd!”

 

“Oh my god!” Takashi shouts back, but Matt’s already up the hallway, back toward his room, leaving a trail of mischievous giggles in his wake.

 

The next day finds him stuck one of the storage compartments with his dad for most of the morning, reconfiguring one of the computers that keeps track of their food inventory so it will run smoother. By the time they’re finished, the page of notes he’d spent the entire night working on is burning a hole in his pocket.

 

There are two separate recreational rooms on their shuttle, referred to as the common room and the lounge, respectively. They sit on opposite sides of the hallway, due to their opposing uses. The lounge is meant for quiet, set up with softer lighting than most of the ship, a plush sofa and chairs, and a desk for use as a workspace. The common room, on the other hand, is more of a ‘play room,’ as Sam had put it. A television screen, game consoles, and speakers line the walls, angled toward a larger couch than the one found in the lounge. There’s a cabinet to one side, packed full of movies and games of all kinds, ranging from board to video.

 

This room is where he finds Takashi, slouched back in the middle of the couch, watching some superhero action movie Matt doesn’t take the time to identify. He has a mission.

 

Takashi looks up as he enters, but before he can get a word out, Matt leans over the arm of the couch, leaning far into Takashi’s personal space. “Hey,” he says, voice low, suave, eyelids half lidded and a smirk stretching across his features. “Are you fluorine? ‘Cause, _damn_ , you attract me.”

 

Takashi squints at him for a moment, then Matt can see when it clicks for him, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline before a sputtering laugh breaks free.

 

Matt’s smirk shifts to a full blown grin.

 

“Oh my god,” Takashi says, when he can finally regain his composure. “I’m absolutely _swooning_. How were you not drowning in dates back at the Garrison with lines like that?” His words drip with sarcasm, which leads Matt to sliding over the armrest onto the couch and bumping their shoulders together, maybe a touch rougher than necessary.

 

“You liked that, huh?” Matt shoots back, matching his tone. “Well there’s plenty more where that came from, baby!” He whips the list out of his pocket, unfolding it to reveal and entire sheet’s worth - front and back - of the cheesiest, corniest, nerdiest pick up lines he could come up with.

 

“How long did you spend on that?” Takashi snatches the sheet out of Matt’s hands, holding it up to read.

 

Matt shrugs. “A few hours, I guess?”

 

Takashi side-eyes him. “A few hours?” He theatrically strokes his chin, eyes darting across the page. “Not bad, I guess. You got some good ones on here.” He hands the paper back to Matt, who refolds it and stuffs it back in his pocket. Takashi smirks. “Bet I could do better, though.”

 

“Oh _please_ ,” Matt says. “I’ve seen you flirt. Or, _try_ to flirt, that is. You put me and my terrible skills to shame.” Their teasing is dancing a bit too close to restricted topics, namely, Adam. Matt senses his potential misstep, ready to divert the conversation away from flirting and relationships toward safer territory.

 

Takashi either doesn’t notice, or isn’t affected. He leans forward, his lips quirked in a half smile that makes Matt’s heart do funny things. “Is that a challenge, Holt? You think your pick up lines are better than mine?”

 

Against his better judgement, Matt takes the bait. He leans in as well, nose crinkled and eyebrows set in determination. “Could be,” he says, “you accept?”

 

Takashi sticks his hand out. “You’re on.”

 

Matt shakes his hand firmly. “And may the best nerd win.”

 

Takashi finds him in the lab the next day. It’s unusual for him to be down there, so Matt’s a bit confused and a tinier bit concerned. Before Matt can ask him if everything is okay, Takashi’s slamming one hand onto a bare counter, leaning on over it with his other hand perched on his hip.

 

One eyebrow quirked, his voice low and rough, and eyes locked on Matt’s, he drawls, “Are you a compound of fluorine, iodine, and neon? ‘Cause _damn_ , you’re F-I-Ne.”

 

If it weren’t so glaringly exaggerated, Matt might have gone weak in the knees. (Maybe he still does.) Instead, he crosses his arms, and raises a brow appraisingly. “Weak, it’s basically the same one I used yesterday.”

 

“Aw, c’mon!” Takashi says, dropping both elbows onto the counter, his features devoid of any cheesy seduction techniques, leaving only his signature puppy dog eyes and lips somehow trying to smile and frown at the same time. “That was great!”

 

“Weak!” Matt says, gathering his materials in his arms and brushing past Takashi on his way out.

 

In retrospect, Matt would agree that the location for his next pick up line delivery was less than ideal, but in the moment, his eyes were only on victory.

 

The following morning, he enters the kitchen to find Takashi already at the table with his breakfast, and his dad otherwise occupied over on the stove preparing what appears to be a complicated dish. With him distracted, it seemed the perfect time to strike.

 

While he’d gotten dressed for the day, he’d intentionally left his hair mussy. Takashi’s, he noted, was equally as messy, though he still hasn’t changed out of his pyjamas. He saunters over to Takashi, who pops a curious eyebrow at him, still chewing. He pushes the plate out of the way, and hops up on the table in its place. He leans in, his breath ghosting over Takashi’s skin.

 

“Hey baby,” he croons, “can I be your enzyme? Because my active sight is _dying_ for a chemical reaction.”

 

Takashi nearly spits his food out, coughing and smacking his chest to try to start breathing again. Matt almost falls off the table himself, instead sliding down as he dissolves into laughter. Sam whirls around, asking what had happened. Takashi waves him off and shoots a thumbs up, and Matt thinks he’s probably grateful his back is to Sam, so that he doesn’t have to explain why his face is absolutely beet-red, his hand pressed over his mouth. Matt assumes it isn’t entirely from lack of oxygen.

 

Once he regains his composure, he pulls himself to his feet. He turns on his heel, grabbing a bagel as he exits.

 

The following day, Matt wakes up prepared for Takashi’s next strike. They’d made plans to play video games together in the afternoon, and Matt’s certain that’s when he’ll be cornered.

 

He does not expect to open his bedroom door and find Takashi leaning against the doorframe. The arm he’s leaning on is stretched up by his head, angled to show off his biceps. His legs are crossed at the ankle, and his other hand is perched on his hip, the picture of nonchalance.

 

“Hey,” his eyebrows pop once, accentuating the word, “you must be the seventh planet in our solar system, because I love Uranus.” He ends the line with a wink.

 

Matt stares at him for a second, then taps the button to slide the door shut.

 

“What! No, come back!” Takashi says, his laughter ringing clear in his voice.

 

If he says anything else, Matt doesn’t hear him, since he hops back onto his bed and buries his face in his pillow, unwilling to admit the heat in his cheeks was Takashi’s doing.

 

It carries on like this, day after day. They take turns cornering one another and laying their worst lines on each other, usually giving one of two results: loud, unabashed laughter, or heat flushed across cheekbones and either shoving the other from the room or making the escape themself, depending. Delivery is usually accompanied by a seductive pose and low, gravelly voices, with all the theatricality of a lead actress in a high school play. Neither of them are entirely sure what the goal is, but the consensus seems to be that Matt is leading in objective line quality, while Takashi takes the lead in production.

 

Takashi really does go over the top in that regard, somehow managing to surprise Matt every time.

 

One day, about two weeks after the first line had been delivered, Matt is getting dressed when he hears the sound of something sliding across the floor. A quick scan of his bedroom reveals a small white square, which clearly had just been slid beneath his door. He bends down and picks up what he realizes is a note card, and instantly recognizes the uneven scrawl across it.

 

_“If I had a star for every time you brightened my day, I'd have a galaxy in my hand ;-)”_

 

Of course he gave the smiley face a nose.

 

It probably wasn’t intentional, Matt reasons. None of this meant anything, he knew that. But up until this point, most of their lines had accompanied some level of innuendo, or at least referenced the attractiveness of the recipient. But this one was… unexpectedly wholesome. How should he respond? What reaction was Takashi even looking for with this?

 

There’s feelings bubbling up in his chest, feelings he doesn’t want to think about today. He finishes getting dressed, and slides the note card into one of his drawers. Another day, maybe.

 

Takashi’s stuck in the cockpit for most of the day, and Sam ropes Matt into some quality father-son robot model building time. He’s thankful, if he’s being honest. Takashi would no doubt be wearing his usual smug grin, which Matt knows would twist knots in his stomach, and render him a stuttering mess.

 

The next day, when he and Takashi are sat next to each other at breakfast, he feels a poke at his shoulder.

 

“Dude,” Takashi says, still poking him. “It’s your turn today. Hit me with it, I’m ready.” He squares his shoulders, jaw set confidently.

 

“Oh,” Matt says. “Shit, uh…” he trails off. He racks his brain, but it keeps going back to Takashi’s note. He shouldn’t be reading into it, especially not when he’s less than a foot from him, but he can’t help it. “I, uh,” he finally says, “I got nothing.”

 

“Nothing?” Takashi repeats.

 

Matt nods, eyebrows raised in surprise.

 

“Then that means I won.”

 

“Wait, no! We never said how we were ranking--”

 

“Too late!” Takashi throws his arm around Matt’s shoulder and tugs him close. “I told you my lines were the best!” His grin is wide, genuine, and Matt feels something soften in his chest.

 

He rolls his eyes, shoving him off, but they’re both laughing.

 

* * *

 

It’s unusual for Matt to be the first one up. The low orange of the nightlights are still shifting into the day portion of their cycle, the only sound the deep humming of the engines. He shuffles down the hall, his eyes half squinted, and is halfway to the kitchen before he realizes he only has one sock on. With a groan, he toes off the remaining sock and kicks it against the wall. If his feet are going to be cold, they might as well match.

 

He stops in the middle of the kitchen, eyes scanning over the counters. After a moment’s debate, he brews himself a single cup of coffee, loads it with an amount of sugar that always makes Takashi cringe, and a splash of cream. He holds the mug up to his face, and takes a deep breath in, letting the smell of caffeine and sugar soak into him.

 

With his brain finally waking up, he picks up on a faint beeping somewhere in the distance. It’s not an alarm for anything vital - there’d be sirens and flashing lights across the whole shuttle - but it must be for _something_. He follows the sound, out of the kitchen and up the main hallway, sipping his coffee as he goes. When he nears the end of the hallway and still hasn’t found the source, he considers turning around and going back to his room, leaving the problem for someone else. Then, he spots a thin column of light spilling out from the seal of a door.

 

It’s the cockpit.

 

He places his hand on the scanner, and the door slides open with a quiet _shwush_. Beyond the windowscreen, the inky void of space stretches as far as he can see, only tiny specks of stars to break it up. He takes a moment to drink in the view. It’s funny, he’s closer to those stars than any human being has ever been, yet they’re still beyond his reach.

 

The beeping is incessant, however, and draws his eyes away from the vastness before him and down to the small popup near the bottom of the windowscreen. Red, blocky letters blink up at him from where he stands behind Takashi’s pilot’s seat.

 

7 DAYS UNTIL LANDING

 

He runs the numbers in his head. Has it really been…? He curls his fingers in the handle of his now empty coffee mug and turns on his heel, sprinting up the hallway towards the bedrooms.

 

“Seven days!” he shouts. “Seven days left!”

 

Sam is just waking up, his door sliding open.

 

“Seven days, Dad! Seven days until Kerberos!”

 

Sam blinks, taking in his sockless son before him, hair still mussed from sleep and a coffee mug hanging from his fingers, dripping it’s last dregs on to the floor. It takes another moment for him to register his words, and the wild grin Matt is bearing.

 

“Oh! How exciting!” He says.

 

Matt nods, “Yeah!” He shoves his mug into Sam’s hands - who barely manages to not drop it in the sudden commotion - and starts trotting backwards up the hall to the next door. “I’m gonna go wake our esteemed pilot up and tell him the news!” Sam shakes his head, and heads down the hall towards the kitchen.

 

His closed fist bangs against Takashi’s door. “Ta!” _Bang._ “Ka!” _Bang._ “Shi!” He hears something move on the other side. He hopes he’s actually waking up, and not rolling over back to sleep. “Get up already! One week left! One week!” He raps a few more times, then the door is sliding open and he only just barely stops himself from smashing his fist into Takashi’s chest.

 

“One week?” he asks, eyes still droopy with sleep but his eyebrows reaching for his hairline.

 

His hair is an absolute disaster, tangled and sticking up at odd angles. His shirt has been twisted a bit off center, and one of his pantlegs has been rucked up over his knee. It made something warm and light flutter in Matt’s chest. Nobody had the right to be that adorable after having, quite literally, just rolled out of bed, but Takashi always seems to find himself the exception to all of Matt’s rules.

 

“One week,” Matt nods.

 

“Holy shit.”

 

Over breakfast, Sam breaks down the schedule for the day. Takashi would be spending most of his time in the pilot’s seat, running tests on the landing gear, reviewing protocol, and making minor course corrections to assure they land safely and on time. Matt and himself, on the other hand, would be mostly in the labs, prepping equipment and running diagnostics.

 

“It’s a lot of work, but our time on the surface will be extremely limited, so it’s better to get everything done now than risk not having enough time later.”

 

Matt and Takashi nod, but share a look out of the corners of their eyes.

 

Sam turns in early that night.

 

Takashi digs through the back cupboards, behind their emergency cans of beans and nutrition bars. Matt is in the common room, his phone plugged into the speaker system, queueing up--

 

“Oh my god,” Takashi says, padding into the room with an armful of snacks and a case of beer, “is that your Kerberos playlist?”

 

A heavy drumbeat and low guitar rift blasts through the speakers, and David Bowie croons about a mama alligator. “It’s proper name is ‘Matt’s Moon Jamz,’ with a ‘Z’. Get it right, Takashi.”

 

“Well, _excuse me_ ,” he says, drawing out the vowels. “You got any dance music on there?”

 

Matt’s face scrunches together, pondering. “Depends on what you consider ‘dance’ music.”

 

Takashi snorts, a half-laugh. He tosses a bottle at Matt, gently enough that he catches it with ease. “Let’s get through a few of those and it probably won’t matter anyway.”

 

It doesn’t, as it turns out. They start off slow, a few rounds on _Mario Kart_ while things start to settle in. Matt’s still proud he managed to convince the Garrison of how absolutely _vital_ the four different consoles he’d brought would be to their wellbeing on the trip. But then Takashi starts getting giggly, starts laughing every time Matt’s character hits a banana or his own character gets knocked off the Rainbow Road, and they realize it’s been enough. They toss aside their controllers, and Takashi grabs Matt by the shoulders, an intense look in his eyes.

 

“Sing with me, Matt.”

 

It takes Matt a moment, probably a touch too long, to respond. Takashi’s gaze feels like a weight on his chest, but he doesn't mind being crushed. “Dude,” he says, a bit giggly himself, “you’re like, _so much_ better singing than me. Y’don’t wanna hear me squealing like a, a frog, or something.”

 

“Yes, I do!” Takashi says, breaking into a grin. “Here,” he grabs one of the remotes from the table and thrusts it into Matt’s hands. “Sing.” He takes another one for himself.

 

Takashi starts swaying his shoulders to the bouncing beat of the current song, waving his hand toward Matt, telling him to start.

 

Matt isn’t as familiar with the song, and waits for the chorus to come around. “ _Dancin’ in the moonlight,”_ his voice is off pitch and unsure, but Takashi’s smile is absolutely beaming, and he sings the next line with a touch more confidence. “ _Everybody’s feeling warm and bright.”_

 

“ _It’s such a fine, and natural sight!”_ Takashi joins in, leaning into Matt as if he were singing to him rather than with him. _“Everybody’s dancing in the moonlight!_ ”

 

They cycle through the next few songs, covering unknown lyrics behind another swig of beer. A slow song comes on, and Takashi throws his arm around Matt’s shoulder, nearly knocking them both off balance, and presses the side of his head into Matt’s hair. He mumbles along to the lyrics, knocking away Matt’s remote when he tries to join him. It’s a bit like a serenade, something at the back of Matt’s mind whispers. He doesn’t quite agree, but he doesn’t argue with it. The slow song is followed by a much harsher, faster paced rock song, which has Takashi pulling away and - foolishly, he’d later add - start headbanging along to it. Matt joins him, screaming along to the singer and not bothering to get the words right.

 

When the song ends, they’re both panting, and Matt grabs onto Takashi’s shoulder to steady them. The next song is much more mellow, but Takashi is grabbing at his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut tight.

 

“Oh, shit,” he groans, “I think I gotta… I gotta go sit down.”

 

“Yeah, same,” Matt adds, though clearly less affected than his friend. He starts leading him towards the couch, when Takashi grabs him by the elbow.

 

“No, no. Somewhere less,” he waves his arm around, gesturing toward the whole room, “bright. And loud.”

 

Matt nods, though Takashi still has his eyes shut. He wraps an arm around his waist, and leads him across the hall. Takashi leans into him, and mutters something Matt can’t hear, but he does catch his own name.

 

The lights aren’t as blinding in the lounge, the standard blue-white LED glow exchanged for a calmer yellow-toned incandescent style.

 

He can still hear Sinatra playing faint in the other room; he tries to focus on the mellow brass and gentle tapping of percussion. It’s overshadowed, by both the pounding of his own heart and Takashi’s off key, off beat humming beside him. He’s slumped back against the couch, a half empty bottle in his hand and a dopey smile on his face.

Matt has been nursing his own bottle for a while now. The buzz light enough to make his limbs loose and his thoughts slow, but not enough to let him start spiraling again.

 

“’S a good song,” Takashi says, his voice low. “You got some good ones.”

“Just picked all the ones about moons,” Matt shrugs.

Takashi snorts. When Matt chances a glance, he sees Takashi’s eyes already on him. Maybe it’s the alcohol fuzzing his brain, but Matt can’t quite pinpoint the expression. A little sad, but maybe a little hopeful.

 

Takashi scoots closer, his eyes never leaving Matt. He leans the side of his head against the back of the sofa, one leg pulled up onto the cushion with them.

“Hey,” Matt says. There’s a pang in his chest. He hadn’t meant it to sound so fond.

“Hey,” Takashi returns, that grin still on his face. Now that he’s closer, Matt sees the pink tinge to his cheeks. His eyelids are hooded, and Matt’s wondering if he’s about to ask him to help him to his room before he passes out, when he feels Takashi’s fingers against his cheek.

Goosebumps rise along his neck and he prays Takashi didn’t notice his sharp inhale. His brain no longer feels fuzzy.

Takashi’s fingers move, ever so slowly. If Matt hadn’t suddenly been so fine-tuned to every tiny thing about him, he might not have noticed. “Matt,” he says; his voice had lost its dopiness. Instead, it’s gentle, almost reverent. “You’re a good friend, you know that? A really good friend.”

“Thanks.” Please, let Takashi still be out of it enough to not feel his heartbeat through his skin. Delicate, he takes hold of Takashi’s fingers and moves them from his face to Takashi’s own lap. “You are too, buddy.”

When Matt lets go, Takashi grabs his hand again, tighter this time. “No,” he insists, “you’re like, a _really_ good friend. And you were always there for me, and I,” he pauses, “I should’ve just…”

He trails off. Matt’s expecting him to finish his thought, give him a moment to catch up through the alcoholic haze, but then Takashi’s surging forward. His eyes are scrunched closed, and his lips on Matt’s before he can process what’s happening.

It’s another second – _too long, Matt thinks_ – before Matt comes to. His hands are against Takashi’s shoulders, shoving him back. “Takashi.” His voice is firm. “This isn’t what you want.” It feels like there’s something clawing, cruel and deep and sharp, into his chest. But that’s not important right now.

 

“Yes it is, Matt. I just never-”

 

“ _No_ , Takashi. You… You don’t-” He feels tears prickling at the back of his eyes, sobs bubbling up his throat. He bites down on his tongue, in bitter hope that the pain might shock his body enough to keep his voice from cracking. “You don’t want me. Not like this.”

 

Takashi’s jaw clenches. “You don’t- you can’t tell me what I want, Matt.” Then, as the realization hits him, his eyes soften. “Oh, god. Do you- did you _not_ want to…”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Matt interjects. The last thing he needs is for Takashi to take him down that path right now, while he’s still too fuzzy and incoherent that he might not deny it. His hands were still on Takashi’s shoulders, he realized. He yanked them back like he’d been stung. “You’re only doing this because you’re still upset about Adam.”

 

_“Matt.”_ Takashi warned.

 

“You’re still hurt. And you’re trying-” Takashi’s gaze was hardening and Matt felt something hot and acidic shoot through his chest “-you’re trying to fill that void, to force yourself to move on and feel something else. I know you, Takashi. I can’t let you do this.”

 

Takashi’s gaze shifted to something even Matt couldn’t read.

 

“Apparently,” Takashi says, “you don’t, and eleven years of friendship means _jack shit_ after all.”

 

This time, Matt’s voice does break. _“Takashi-”_

 

He shoots to his feet, wobbling for a moment and pressing the heel of his palm to his temple. “Don’t,” he warns, “just… don't.” He staggers to the door, grabbing onto the frame as he gets his bearings. “Of all people,” his back is to Matt, like it was meant for himself more so than anyone else, “I never expected this from you.” Without another look, he turns up the hallway toward his room.

 

It's like he's just taken a blow to the chest, from something heavy but still sharp, like a mace. It bashes in his sternum, the debris falling in avalanche into his gut where it burns up, leaving him with nothing but a void inside.

 

The song has started grating on him. He feels like he's floating just outside his body, but eventually he coaxes his legs into carrying him back to the common room, and tugs the cord from his phone, cutting Sinatra off from telling him what he meant, _in other words_.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day finds both time and Matt dragging their feet. Everything feels like it’s being viewed through a wall of static - gray, numb, and harsh. He makes his coffee in silence. His routine in muscle memory at this point - unholy amounts of sugar followed by a splash of cream - but when he takes the first sip, it’s bitter on his tongue.

 

Despite the small size of the ship, he doesn’t see Takashi all day. Not even a glimpse turning a corner, or as a door closes behind him. It’s eerie, in a way. The two of them had been by each other’s side, physically and metaphorically, for as long as he could remember. Without him, it was cold, and lopsided.

 

His dad seems to pick up on his mood, all but shoving him out of the lab when they’re only halfway through their prep work for the day.

 

“No, Dad, I’m sorry! I’m just a little distracted. Didn’t sleep well last night, probably because of the, y’know, landing. Soon. I’ll focus, I can still-”

 

Sam puts a hand up, effectively cutting him off. “Matthew James Holt,” Matt stiffens at the use of his full name, “do not make me repeat myself. I got the lab covered for today. You go… take some time for yourself.” Matt opens his mouth to protest, but Sam continues over him. “Nope! Take a nap, watch a movie, whatever. Just get out of here!” He _does_ push, then, grabbing his son by the shoulders.

 

“Oh, and one more thing,” Sam adds, as Matt shuffles down the hall. “Maybe try to coax Takashi into whatever you end up doing? He seems pretty out of it today, too.”

 

He bites his lip, his back still to Sam. Something squeezes in his chest, it’s claws digging into his insides. He nods. His lip is still pinched between his canines.

 

He leaves the light in his room off, leaving only the ambient “day cycle” lighting embedded in the ceiling to set the tone. While they hadn’t been designed to mimic Earthen weather patterns, it somehow felt overcast. Matt falls backwards onto his bed, grabbing his pillow and crushing it against his torso. Against his will, his mind calls back the pressure of Takashi’s lips against his, and the lacerations in his gut that hadn’t even begun to scab over yet were bleeding anew. He squeezes his eyes closed, tight enough it almost hurts, his nose wrinkled and his mouth set in a grimace. Anything he could do to get his mind off of it, any song to get stuck in his head, formulas to review for their research, the codes he’d given to Pidge to share their covert messages....  Whatever he tries lasts no longer than a flashbulb, and he’s left only with Takashi’s face, cold and unreadable.

 

“ _I never expected this from you._ ”

 

He doesn’t try to stop the tears when they come. He crushes the pillow against his face, praying it’s enough to muffle his sobs from outside the doors. It’s a heavy, anguished sort of cry, one born not just from disappointment, but from a genuine loss. His fingertips dig into the pillowcase.

 

The ambient lights are shifting to their sunset cycle by the time it lets up, having run alternating rounds of painful sobbing and near silence. He should be hungry, should be heading down to dinner right now, but instead he's just burnt out. Rolling over onto his stomach takes the last of his energy. As his heavy eyelids fall closed, Takashi flashes through his mind once more. But his heart doesn't have it, and he’s asleep before he gives himself the chance to dwell too much.

 

A final thought courses through his mind before he’s out.

 

_What have I done?_

 

The second day is just as quiet as the first, but far more lonely.

 

He ventures from his room only to complete his duties on the ship - laundry, and restocking the food cabinets, today -  and when the growling in his stomach becomes unbearable. Sam had barred him from even entering the research wings until he gets over the funk he’s in. He doesn’t try spending time in the lounge or common room. Some things are still too fresh. He spends the majority of the day curled on his side, in bed, idly swiping through his tablet but absorbing nothing. He gets a stomach ache.

 

He doesn’t see Takashi that day, either.

 

4 DAYS UNTIL LANDING

 

Matt didn’t remember falling asleep, but he’s woken up to a brisk, slightly-too-loud knocking at his door.

 

“Matthew!” his father’s voice calls. “Up and at ‘em!”

 

There’s a pounding at his temple, and the continued knocking isn’t helping. “Dad!” he calls back, the vowel drawing out in a bit of a whine, “Please, stop. I’m not feeling well.”

 

The knocking, thankfully, stops. “That’s because you haven’t had a decent meal in two days. There will be no getting sick when we’re so close to Kerberos.” Matt’s about to protest, but then Sam’s voice shifts from father to Commander, “You will report to the kitchen for a proper breakfast in ten. That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

 

Matt rolls his eyes and out of bed. He throws on a clean set of clothes and runs his fingers quickly through his hair, untangling most of the knots that had set in over the past few days. While it’s likely that Sam had just been exaggerating with the “orders,” Matt doesn’t want to take the risk and foregoes his usual morning shuffle for a speedwalk as he moves down the hall to the kitchen.

 

As the door slides open, he almost wishes he’d opted for the shuffle. Maybe then he would’ve been able to procrastinate stumbling into the moment he currently finds himself in, even by just a little bit.

 

Sam is at the stove, finishing a pan full of scrambled eggs. The small central table is already filled with bowls of defrosted fruits and a plate of turkey bacon that looks to be somewhat picked over already. His favorite coffee mug is already set out for him. None of these things, however, are what take him aback.

 

Seated at the table, directly across from where he’s standing, Takashi stares back at him, slice of bacon held midair, halfway to his mouth.

 

For a moment, neither of them move.

 

Sam breaks their time freeze, humming absently as he divides the eggs between the three place settings at the table.

 

“Good morning,” Takashi says first - he’d always been the more initiative of the two. His words bear a lilt of formality he hasn’t heard since the Garrison.

 

Matt nods in return. He takes the remaining seat at the table, and fills his plate.

 

No one speaks, but Sam’s eyes bounce between them, one eyebrow cocked in the way Matt knows mostly from lab work. He’s in study mode, and Matt doesn’t like being on this side of the microscope.

 

It’s only been a few minutes, and their plates are only half cleared, when Sam suddenly snaps his fingers. “Oh, shoot!” He scoots his chair back with a harsh squeak, and hops to his feet. “Just remembered, I have an experiment I need to finish up, immediately!”

 

“Experiment?” Matt questions. Why would he be running a new experiment so close to landing? Regardless, he sees the escape route opened and moves to stand with him. “I’ll come help.”

 

“No,” Sam says. “You’re not.” Matt’s eyebrows furrow. “This experiment is a delicate one, testing the effects of two similar, reactive elements when confined in a small space for a given amount of time.” He’s walking backwards as he speaks, and is at the door before both Matt’s and Takashi’s brains catch on to what he’s saying. The door slides open behind him, he steps out, places his hand on the scanner on the wall beside it. “Activate emergency lock”

 

“No!” Matt and Takashi shout simultaneously.

 

The computer gives a warning beep, and Sam presses a sequence of buttons before another small beep prompts him, “Voice command override: Holt, Samuel T.” There’s a trill from the scanner, and the doors slide shut.

 

“Dad! Open this door!” Matt shouts.

 

“Sam, please!” Takashi shouts at the same time.

 

“Something happened between you two,” Sam calls from the other side. “I don’t know what, and it’s not my business, but you are not coming out of that room until you work it out! You can use the intercoms to contact me when you’ve made up. I’ll be in the labs.”

 

Matt slumps against the door, his forehead to the cool metal. Somewhere behind him, Takashi lets out a frustrated groan, and Matt hears him fall back into his chair.

 

“Who does something like this?!” Matt slams his fist against the door. “Do we live in a teen drama or something?”

 

“Apparently,” Takashi mutters.

 

There’s an ache in Matt’s chest. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. Sit quietly, on opposite sides of the room, and wait out his dad? Or turn around and try to talk to his friend? Even if he did, he wouldn’t know where to begin. Is it his place to do so, or should he wait for Takashi to make the first move, if he wants to? What if… what if none of them ever made a move?

 

He slams his hand against the door once more, open palmed this time. He takes a steadying breath. The acid in the pit of his stomach is churning, bubbling up through his chest and stinging at the back of his eyes. He pivots on his heel, and catches Takashi’s eye where it lifts to catch the sudden movement.

 

“I’m sorry,” Matt says. The two of them know each other well enough that there’s no need for a build up, to lay a foundation for the problem at hand and feel around for the other’s reaction. Their shared ability to read the other’s body language is enough.

 

Takashi quirks an eyebrow. “For what, Matt?”

 

“For-”

 

“For not listening to me? For trying to tell me _you_ know my feelings better than I do?” Matt had always admired the cool grey of Takshi’s eyes, but had never described them as ‘steely’ before that moment. He doesn’t move from the chair, but oddly, the icy stillness is just as intimidating as if he’d risen to his full height. “For kissing me?” A silence falls between them, palpable. “ _What_ are you sorry for?”

 

Matt’s first instinct is to wrap his arms around himself, to shield himself, shrink down. He resists the urge; this isn’t something - someone - he needs to defend himself against, or to try to invoke sympathy from. The quiet has maybe stretched out too long, he isn’t sure, when he says, “For betraying your trust.”

 

Takashi doesn’t challenge him on it.

 

“I didn’t believe you - didn’t _want_ to believe you, I guess - but instead of… instead of taking something I couldn’t understand and trying to _make_ myself understand, I flat out denied it. I was too busy thinking about myself to consider what it meant to you.” His eyes downcast, he moves to sit in the chair opposite Takashi. If he’d been paying attention, he would have seen the way Takashi’s brows furrowed, analytical. “We’re best friends, and after everything… especially after everything, you should be able to always count on me to be there for you, and to think of your feelings. And I didn’t, and you had every right to react the way you did.”

 

He finally ventures his gaze upward, only to find Takashi’s eyes raking over him like he’s searching for something.

 

“What do you mean,” Takashi says, “what do you mean, ‘didn’t want to believe me’?”

 

A hot spike of fear pierces his chest. He could try to weasel his way out of the question. A comment on vague and confusing emotions wouldn’t be entirely a lie, and would maybe satisfy him enough to keep him from prodding at that sore.

 

He takes in the set of Takashi’s jaw, and the way his eyes have stopped searching and are holding fast to his own. Maybe, Matt reasons, as goosebumps start to raise across his skin, maybe it’s time to let the past five years’ worth of bottled and buried feelings finally make themselves known.

 

He buries his face in his hands, unable to hold Takashi’s unwavering gaze. “I…” he almost stops, almost turns tail and prays Takashi would take a half-truth over nothing, but then he remembers the gaping void in his chest and the gray film that had set over the world in his best friend’s absence, and he forces himself to power onward. “I… have had feelings for you. Like, romantic ones. For a long time, now.”

 

Matt doesn’t know what he expected. Would Takashi be angry? Uncomfortable? Would he offer Matt a look of pity for his unrequited feelings, so much like the ones people cast at him when they’d heard of his and Adam’s breakup?

 

Matt can’t bring himself to look, but hears Takashi ask in a steady voice, “For how long?”

 

“Since high school,” Matt replies easily.

 

“Oh.”

 

“But you were with Adam,” he continues, “and you two were so happy, then. So,” Matt finally drops his hands, but his gaze is focused steadily on the table below him. He shrugs. “I tried to get over it, the… the _crush._ ” He’d never called it that out loud before, and there’s a heat of embarrassment blossoming along his cheeks. “I love what we have, I didn’t _need_ anything else, even if I wanted it. I did a pretty good job of brushing it aside, I thought. But, well…” he pauses, “it never really went _away_.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Matt nods.

 

“So when I... kissed you…” Takashi ventures.

 

“Lots of feelings.”

 

“That you’d been trying to not-”

 

“Yep.”

 

“I guess it makes sense, if you look at it that way,” Takashi says.

 

“So why did you?” Matt asks. “Kiss me, that is.”

 

Takashi purses his lips, like he’s trying to hold the words back until they’re ready. “Matt, I’ve always loved you. In more ways than one.” He rolls the words around a bit more, “You’ve always been my closest friend, someone I always wanted in my life. I love you, that way. But I also love you in other ways, ways I didn’t realize until I’d felt them for someone else, and realized they were different.”

 

Matt’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m not sure I understand.”

 

Takashi sighs. It’s not out of frustration with Matt, but more like he’s centering himself for what he’s about to say. “Matt Holt, I’ve been in love with you - platonically, romantically, and whatever else there is in between - for probably as long as I can remember.”

 

There’s a whirlwind inside Matt’s torso, twisting up his guts and throwing every other feeling into chaos. Is what he’s saying…? His breathing is suddenly faster, but deeper. His blood isn’t sure whether to rush to his face or completely drain from it, leaving him feeling like he has a layer of static sitting on top of his skin.

 

“I didn’t realize it, though,” Takashi continues, “until… well, until I fell for Adam, honestly. I started realizing that a lot of the things I felt for him, I also felt for you, and things just… clicked into place.”

 

Matt almost wants to scream. For that long?!

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

Takashi shrugs. “We were stupid kids? I had no reason to think my feelings were returned, and I didn’t want to risk our friendship. And, well,” he rests his head in his hand, his thumb under his chin and his index finger up along his temple. “I did still feel them for Adam, then.”

 

Matt nods. “Stupid kids. Also stupid adults, I guess.”

 

Takashi gives a sharp exhale through his nose. “Probably not the smoothest thing to try to confess through drunken kisses?”

 

Matt manages to crack a small, half-smile. “It’s better than my plan, which was nothing, so points for initiative.”

 

Takashi hums.

 

It’s quiet. Some of the tension seems to have lifted, leaving behind only the space between them. Matt isn’t sure how long they sit there, but it is enough for the storm in his insides to settle into something calmer. The world is still windswept and mussed, but the chaos has ebbed, and it’s time to start putting things back together again.

 

“So, I guess it’s my turn to take the initiative, then,” Matt eventually says. “If… if we both still… have feelings, then, do you....?”

 

“Do I?” God, he can _hear_ the smirk in his voice.

 

Matt reaches across the table, and takes Takashi’s free hand in both of his. “Takashi Shirogane,” he begins, his voice firm and bold, “will you do me the honor of taking you on a date?”

 

Takashi’s smirk breaks into a full grin. “Might be a little hard to do on a space shuttle on Pluto. Especially with your dad hanging around.”

 

Matt waves his free hand around, pushing aside the words. “Ok, ok, good point,” his own grin is wide, his cheek muscles tense. “Rain check on the date.”

 

“I think,” Takashi says, his tone more serious, “we both understand there’s… a _lot_ , here. It’s a yes to the date but, maybe we should take things… slow?” His eyebrows are pinched together, nervous for Matt’s answer.

 

It’s unnecessary, however. Since Matt agrees. He gives Takashi’s hand a gentle squeeze.

 

“If you’re okay with it, though,” Takashi adds, “I would like to call you my boyfriend.”

 

Years ago, in what seems like another lifetime, Matt had thrown dirt on the fire he felt for Takashi, and prayed the still glowing embers would eventually snuff themselves out. At Takashi’s question, they’d come roaring back to life, a wave of heat hitting Matt in the face and melting away the frostbite that had set in in its absence. What had once been a void in his chest was suddenly so full he felt like he may burst.

 

“Yes, absolutely. As long as I can call you the same.” He’s unable to tame the smile in his voice, and he doesn’t care.

 

“Please do,” Takashi says, breaking into an elated half-laugh.

 

Matt squeezes their hands again.

 

They stay like that, grinning and sharing small, toothy, giddy laughter between them. A warmth has settled over them, heavy enough to provide comfort but not to stifle. Neither are sure how long they’re like that, when Matt perks up.

 

“We should probably get Dad to unlock the door.”

 

“Probably.”

 

* * *

 

 

Their hands are linked when Sam opens the door for them. He shoots them a smirk, and Matt promptly drags Takashi around the nearest corner, out of sight.

 

But Takashi, the traitor, only starts laughing at him.

 

“What’s so funny?” Matt snaps.

 

Takashi’s head is thrown back and his hand on his chest, as if he’s trying to keep himself from falling forward. His laugh is a loud, boisterous one, and feels his own face softening at the sight. Maybe he isn’t as mad as he let on.

 

Through his laughs, he manages to speak, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But Matt, you’re twenty-three years old. You don’t need to be embarrassed about your dad knowing you’re… _with_ someone.”

 

“Oh my god,” Matt rolls his eyes, exaggeratedly enough that they both know it isn’t serious, “says the guy who hasn’t lived with his parents in years! I can and will be embarrassed, thank you.”

 

Takashi shoots him a look, still chuckling.

 

Matt can’t hold it back anymore, and lets himself break into a smile as well.

 

Their hands are still linked.

 

It’s funny, Matt thinks. Nothing really feels different. The jittering, fluttery feeling in his chest when he looks at Takashi is still there, just as strong. As is the ease with which gentle teasing flows between them. The only change is the weight of Takashi’s hand in his, and the implications behind it. It’s familiar, in some ways, as being beside Takashi has always been his favorite place. But now, there’s a new element to it, something like a promise. A promise to stay close to one another, to share kisses and early morning coffee, and a home together, one day.

 

Matt had never been one to see friendship and romance as tiers, one being more or less than the other. Romance, friendship, and the like, they’re all just different blocks that can be used to build a relationship. One is not stronger, or more sturdy, just different colors. For so long, he’d convinced himself that his and Takashi’s relationship could only be built from one of those blocks, no matter how much he wanted to add another. Now, Takashi’s hand gives his a quick squeeze, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Matt sees the new block that’s been added. It’s vibrant, rich, saturated color blending seamlessly with what’s settled before it.

 

He almost has to convince himself, again, that it’s real. How long had he denied himself these feelings? How much time had he spent telling himself he could never have this? But it’s happened, it’s real.

 

Takashi’s hand is in his, and Matt is never letting go.

 

* * *

 

His room is dark, illuminated only by the low light of his tablet screen. It’s late, late enough that he’s hyper-aware of the fact that he should be sleeping. They’ll be landing any day now, and between collecting samples and the countless tests he and his father will be running, he knows there will be little time for sleep. It doesn’t matter what the logical part of his brain is telling him, the swarm of butterflies still wreaking havoc on his insides refuse to let him rest. He’s thankful for the dark, even if he’s alone. It gives him some plausible deniability to the painfully large grin he’d been unable to sweep away all night. His cheeks still burn with the remnants of the deep, vivid blush he’d been sporting since his and Takashi’s… talk.

 

He lets his tablet flop forward onto his chest, and his eyes wander up toward the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars Takashi had stuck up there their first night still glow, their fluorescent green hue bright enough to be seen even in the low light. A nostalgic sort of warmth settles in his chest as his eyes trace the constellations Takashi had patterned them in. On the wall beside him, he’s pinned the note card from their pick up line contest.

 

He thinks he might be starting to drift off when there’s a knock at his door.

 

He shoots upward, his tablet flipping off his stomach and onto his bed. There’s a fleeting thought of _the aliens are finally here, they’ve come to take us_ , before he reasons that invading aliens wouldn’t be polite enough to knock. He slips off the bed and shuffles toward the door.

 

He cracks it open, blinking against the low nightlights in the hallway, as the figure on the other side comes into focus.

 

“Takashi?” The butterflies begin stirring in his guts once again. “What’re you--”

 

His eyes haven’t adjusted, so it’s hard to tell, and the orange tint of the nightlights doesn’t help, but he’s almost positive there’s a blush spread across Takashi’s cheeks, across his nose. One butterfly goes rogue and flutters up into his throat, cutting off any more coherent speech.

 

“Could I, um,” Takashi’s arm is bent back, his fingers fiddling with short hairs at the base of his undercut. “Could I come in?”

 

Matt nods, speech slowly returning to him. “Of- of course. You know my door is always open for you.”

 

One corner of Takashi’s mouth twitches upwards, and Matt realizes the rush he gets from it isn’t just because the half smile is one of the most endearing things he’s ever seen, but because for the first time, he can let those thoughts flow freely with no guilt or aftertaste of longing.

 

Takashi moves past him into the room, only to stand awkwardly in the center. Matt’s room is far from spacious, with only a tiny space for walking squashed between his bed, desk, and various other mess shoved into spare corners. Takashi continues to twiddle with his hair. Matt moves toward the lightswitch, but drops his arm halfway. His tablet still glows from where it’d flopped onto his bed, and he rather likes the blue-green ambiance it surrounds them in.

 

“So,” Matt starts, when it seems like Takashi’s engines are stalling, “is everything okay?”

 

Takashi’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “What? No, yeah. Everything’s fine. It’s… it’s great, actually.” His free hand begins to reach towards Matt’s but stops halfway, fingers falling uncertainly. “Sorry,” he says, a small chuckle coloring his words, “I probably shouldn’t have woken you. Especially this close to the landing and all. I can--”

 

“Takashi Shirogane, don’t you dare. How many times do I have to tell you you’re more important than any sleep I definitely wasn’t getting anyway?” Matt quirks a smile, a mirror to Takashi’s own. He bridges the gap between their hands, loosely tangling their fingers together. His thumb begins to gently brush across his knuckles, and Matt can feel more than see the way he relaxes. “So,” he tries to sound casual and prays his pounding heart doesn’t betray him, “what’s up?”

 

Takashi exhales, sharp. “Well, I’ve been thinking.”

 

“That can’t be good.”

 

His smile widens. “Shut up. I was thinking, and um…” He gives Matt’s fingers a weak tug, pulling him back until their knees hit the side of the mattress. He tugs again, until they’re both sitting on the bed. His eyes meet Matt’s, wide, a bit uncertain. “We’re landing soon,” he starts again, “and I know the whole time we’ll be so busy with your nerdy science stuff,” Matt gives him a gentle swat on the shoulder. “But I know there will be no rest time or anything, and, well, there was something I wanted to do - for real, this time - before we won’t have a chance for a while. If- if you want to, that is. It’s okay if-”

 

Matt cuts him off, “Takashi?” Their gazes hold for a moment, and Matt’s impressed at how steady he feels. He blames it on the warm weight of Takashi’s hand in his own. He gives a nod, small and quick. Takashi lifts an eyebrow. Matt nods again, bigger, broader, and lets his painfully large grin spread across his face again.

 

Takashi leans forward then, and takes one last moment to sweep his eyes over Matt’s face before he presses their lips together. It’s firm, sure, and confident, and for a moment Matt’s so lost in the roaring surge of warmth in his chest that he forgets to kiss back. Takashi starts to pull away, eyes hooded, but Matt chases after him, grabbing the collar of Takashi’s sleep shirt and pushing him backwards until his head hits Matt’s pillow. Takashi’s hands snake up his back, one hand gripping into the fabric of his shirt between his shoulder blades, the other venturing higher and tangling into his hair.

 

Matt sighs, and feels his whole body relax against Takashi’s, his weight sinking against him. He moves one hand from Takashi’s shirt and presses it against his cheek, gentle, like he’s afraid anymore would cause this fragile moment to crumble in his hands. Takashi, however, takes it as encouragement, and moves his lips against Matt’s. He tries to reciprocate, but it throws their rhythm off and he’s pulling back, eyes low and unable to meet Takashi’s.

 

“Sorry,” he says. “I don’t really have… I’m not really sure what I’m doing here.”

 

“Hey,” Takashi says, his voice low and breathy. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out together, okay?” The hand from his hair moves to his cheek, his thumb caressing along his skin in featherlight ministrations, sending chills down Matt’s spine.

 

Matt’s forehead falls forward, pressing his face into Takashi’s neck. “I just don’t want to ruin our first kiss,” he mumbles.

 

“Nothing’s ruined,” Takashi assures him. “But, well, if it helps…” He returns his hands to Matt’s shoulders, and hooks one leg around his knee. Before Matt has time to question what he’s doing, Takashi has them flipped, his weight pressing down against Matt’s chest, warm and secure.

 

“ _Oh,_ ” is all Matt can say.

 

Takashi’s smile is still endearing, but had taken on a devilish edge. He leans in, pressing his forehead to Matt’s.

Takashi was close, _so close_. He could feel his breath against his face, his eyelids brushing his own. And Matt knows Takashi can feel his racing heartbeat, because he can feel Takashi’s. They sync together like a drummer’s march, Matt’s just a touch faster, the rolling grace note to Takashi’s grounding cadence. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a slow and heavy inhale. His hands, which had fallen to Takashi’s shoulders in the movement, slide upwards. One stalls at the juncture of his neck, and his fingers spread, his thumb caressing over his collarbone through his shirt. The other continues, combing up through short hairs at the back of his head.

 

Takashi sighs, arching his neck into Matt’s touch and in turn pulling his face back ever so slightly.

 

Matt chases after him, pressing the sides of their noses together. He presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and can feel Takashi’s face break into a grin beneath his lips.

 

“There we go,” Takashi teases, pulling Matt back down to Earth. At some point his hands had moved to Matt’s waist, and he was thankful to his t-shirt for concealing the goosebumps that had raised along his skin. “Knew you’d get the hang of it.”

 

“Oh my god,” Matt says, plastering one hand to his face. It must be tomato red, if the heat coming off of it was anything to go by.

 

Takashi pulls back, propping himself up just enough to get a good look at Matt’s face. “What?” he asks, his smile coloring his words.

 

Matt peeks out from behind his fingers. “I just,” he says, “I still can’t believe this is happening. For so long I just… but you're _here_ and it’s _like this_ , and…” His hand moves from his face, reaching up to card through Takashi’s dark forelock. He leans into his touch, the tension Matt had grown used to over the years completely gone from his features and in their place a loose, fond expression. “...and you’re so amazing, Takashi.”

 

“Funny, I’ve been saying the same thing about you.”

 

Matt bites the inside of his lip, a burst of warmth blooming in his chest. “Wow,” he says, “stealing my emotional declarations. I can’t believe this.”

 

He immediately recognizes the face Takashi makes when he’s trying to hold himself back, but a short snort-laugh escapes anyway. His mouth twists into the half-grin again, and Matt has only a split second to prepare before Takashi dives forward again, this time aiming for Matt’s neck. He hunches up his shoulder on reflex, but it only serves to pin Takashi’s face to his neck as he peppers small, quick kisses along it.

 

Matt makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a squeal, his nose scrunched up. His body trying to curl in on itself, his knees bending and squeezing against Takashi’s hips, but Takashi’s larger frame still holds him steadily in place. The squeal eventually leads itself into a full laugh, which only further spurs Takashi on.

 

In the gasps of air he gets between laughs, Matt eventually stockpiles enough air to form words. Tapping his hand against Takashi’s shoulder, he says, “I yield! I yield!”

 

“That’s what you get!” Takashi says, his own laughs echoing Matt’s. “That’s what you get for that sass, Holt.”

 

Matt’s giggling fades, but the smile remains as Takashi pulls back again. Their eyes meet, gazes hold for just long enough for the earlier atmosphere to settle back down on them.

 

“Kiss me.”

 

And he does.

 

It’s slow, and heavy, but it lights Matt’s body up with a static pulse like he’s just regained feeling in a limb he hadn’t realized had been numb. He follows Takashi’s lead, matching his movements and pressing the two of them together with equal force. He tries to force himself to stop thinking, to stop questioning whether he’s _good_ and just _feel_ , repeating motions that _feel good_ , and ones that Takashi responds to.

 

He would’ve melted completely into the moment if he could, but the call of oxygen eventually overcomes them. Their lips separate, panting breaths between them. It’s the only sound around them. Absently, Matt notices the glowing stars on the ceiling above them, and the way that, from his angle, they almost form a halo around Takashi’s face.

 

“Wow,” he breathes.

 

“Wow,” Takashi seconds.

 

He leans in once more, and presses a chaste but firm kiss to Matt’s lips. He pulls one arm back, shifting onto his side and off of Matt. He places another kiss on his cheek, this one just a beat longer. He feels for his hand in the near darkness, and threads their fingers together. Matt squeezes his hand, answering a question that had yet to be asked. “ _Stay._ ”

 

The beds in these dorms had only been designed to fit one person, and snuggly at that. There’s jostling, shifting, for a moment, which ends Matt nearly on top of Takashi, legs tangled together and arms wrapped around one another.

 

There’s quiet for a few beats before Takashi breaks it. “Oh hey,” he says, “the stars are still glowing.”

 

“Yeah,” Matt answers. “They’re really nice.”

 

“When we get to Kerberos, remind me.” Before Matt can question him, he adds, “once we map out the new constellations together, I’ll rearrange them to match.”

 

Just like that, Matt is pulled back through the riptide. It’s a cool night up on his rooftop. He’s twelve years old. Two pinkies are looped together, a promise spoken over them. It’s probably too late, Matt thinks, but in the silence of his own heart, he makes a small amendment to his oath. He’d go to space with Takashi, but more than that, he’d follow him as far as he wandered, to the furthest reaches of the universe.

 

He would reach out and touch the stars, with Takashi beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to personally thank my beta, leolikesarokeith, for all of his help. This fic would be a mess without you! His tumbler can be found [here](https://leolikesarokeith.tumblr.com).
> 
> And of course, a thank you to my incredible artist @kopescetic_!! Find her on Instagram [here!](https://www.instagram.com/kopescetic__/)
> 
> Her art for this fic can be found [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/ByiFqF_nnX0/) and [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/BylK3yunrJV/)! You can also reblog it on tumblr from the shatt big bang page, [here!](https://shattbigbang.tumblr.com/post/185528610913/art-by-kopescetic-on-instagram-for-the-shatt-big)
> 
> And you can find **me** on tumblr [@shiroganetakashi](https://shiroganetakashi.tumblr.com)


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